


After the Awful

by Grimmy88



Series: Just Pure Awful [2]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, Hostage Situations, M/M, Mating, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Omega Verse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Semi-Public Sex, urinating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5079040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmy88/pseuds/Grimmy88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to Just Pure Awful</p><p>Waylon is still experiencing his heat with a certain alpha and the breeding that comes with it. What comes after: the breakdown of the asylum, a bonded mate, and the possibility of a child, is all an additional, unwanted struggle compounded on the tortures still fresh in his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Escape

            “Hnngh…mff—ahh…”

            “What did you say, darling?”

            Waylon gurgled into the pillow that encased his face. His tongue was weighted and thick, impossible to move or command, and so the sounds drawn from him echoed from his throat and chest, resonant when his breath slipped free without a catch on its exit. His jaws, even pressed into cushioning, were open and so the fabric beneath his lips was soaked with drool, and what surrounded his eyes damp from unbidden tears.

            He did not hurt, nor was he upset—not that his mind could fathom if he truly were—and he did not dwell on the only remaining reason for them.

            His shoulders were pressed to the bedding, aiding him to balance the way his back curved to accommodate the height of his hips. They had been lifted, prioritizing access to the most sensitive and important part of him.

            His alpha was above and behind him, slamming into that place. He enjoyed taking Waylon from behind after repeated use of him; he liked the sounds his cock made ramming escaped seed back into its receptive host.

            A thick hand curled at the back of his head and drew his face free as the other trailed the line of his spine.

            “Don’t hide your voice.”

            With his head angled back, Waylon’s noises were made guttural, as if scraping the sides of his esophagus in the speed of their expulsion.

            Eddie Gluskin made his own sound of approval before withdrawing from his mate. Waylon gasped but did not keen, anticipating a change in his position. It was the larger man who moved, however, lifting into a squat and curling his strong fingers around the crease where his partner’s hip and thigh folded in meeting. He squeezed and the technician, impossibly, arched and offered himself even higher, grunting when he was refilled in one rapid downward motion.

            “Keep your head up.”

            The omega obeyed, stuttering at the heavy thrusts driven into him. He was not loud enough to cover the slick, audible meeting of the skin of their hips nor his mate’s testicles against the back of his own.

            Deep within, he could feel the fat cockhead as a repeated pressure at the extremes of his inner walls. Over-sensitized as those walls were, as he was, his body thrummed with painful pleasure that rushed through his nerves with every shove of his alpha’s weight. One of those shoves served as the last, burying the entirety of Eddie’s dick within sucking heat. The thickest part of his shaft spread the circle of the smaller man’s opening, forcing its pink line to cling to the intrusion, and it felt as though Waylon could feel every vein, and by extension, beat of the alpha’s heart.

            The pressure grew the most just inside that ring with each pump of blood, steady and slow. Waylon moaned against it and again when the patient ground himself forward to test the hold. It didn’t give.

            Eddie’s hands slipped from their place to the front of Waylon’s thighs, gentle and adoring in their caress before their strength lifted the omega from his knees. He was settled onto his side so that the larger man could curl around his back, allowing the gyration of his hips and the searching of his fingers. His mouth trailed wet lines from his ear to neck to shoulder and those white teeth followed, grazing and coloring the skin in their wake.

            Waylon leaned his head back into him, wanting the sucking at the meeting of his neck and shoulder, where their bond mark was, where the sensation would be felt the most, where he knew magnificent pleasure would start and end. The patient obliged, lips and tongue and teeth and spit working in alternation. One hand slid up his side, its fingers skimming his ribs to a nipple, circling and pressing. The same attention was not given to the other and left Waylon frustrated and arching forward. The alpha’s hand took the opportunity to follow the outward curve of his stomach down, into his pubic hair, catching the base of the smaller man’s cock against the webbing between forefinger and thumb.

            Then his grip curled and stroked at a maddeningly slow pace, and Waylon resumed his gurgled mutterings. Eddie rocked into him slowly, his breath becoming part of the attentions delivered to his mate’s neck.

            “Are you full, darling?”

            There was a sharp whip-like snap of arousal in his stomach, and the ex-employee shook his head as best he could, his own fingers finding Eddie’s forearm. No, he wasn’t full in the way he wanted, but he was empty in all others. He tried to stop the fondling on his somehow-erect cock.

            “You can spill again for me, I know you can,” the alpha whispered into his ear.

            Waylon shook his head again and both a grunt and sob combined to fall pitifully from his slack mouth.

            His partner tasted his neck again and hummed in enjoyment at the flavor. “Yes, very slowly.” And his motions were just that—agonizingly slow, enjoying the way the skin of Waylon’s dick dragged up and down, bunching just below the purpling head. The undulations of his breeding, a similar pace, were now aimed at dragging the alpha’s fat knot against the walls that nestled it.

            It was more difficult to breathe now, and Waylon felt his face screwed tight with focus, the only slackening allowed in his jaw. Eddie’s other arm curled under him and spread its hand over the middle of the younger man’s chest, rising and dipping at each aggrieved breath.

            The rolling continued for some time, indeterminate through the haze settled inside Waylon’s skull, in addition to his alpha’s attentions. It was too much, and he tried to whisper as much when he felt the crescendo of pleasure roiling against and with the discomfort of his over stimulation.

            The bigger man hushed him, twisted his grip about the omega’s cockhead and then gave one more drag of the length supporting it. And the blockade of discomfort did not subside, but grew and melded with the pleasure into a carnality that had Waylon gasping and begging for it to both continue and end.

            The streams coaxed out of him were not powerful, and they may not have slipped from him at all were it not for the encouraging upwards force made from the circle of his lover’s grip. The white liquid caught on the sides of Eddie’s fingers with each pass, and the technician knew the blue eyes peering over his shoulder were fixated on it until he could collect no more.

            The fingers would have been offered to his own mouth had Waylon not dropped his head to the side, too fatigued to support it, too fatigued to do anything but feel the tremors of and within his own body. He listened as they were licked clean next to his ear.

            Then Eddie let out a deep, pleased half-growl that vibrated right from the shell of the ex-employee’s ear down to the warmth spurting inside of him. “My Waylon.” Muscular arms corded around him, holding him secure and close, and with the embrace came the alpha’s scent which no longer enflamed the need inside him now that it had been tended, but soothed the thrum of his blood and placated his inward need for submission.

            Waylon was content to have his weight supported and protected through the long minutes of their joining. He did not doze, but his mind drifted with no true definition or direction until the girth inside him receded and then withdrew. A slow bead of the patient’s seed tickled down his ass cheek, a precursor to the thick leaking that always followed after Eddie bred him. When it diminished his mate pressed along his back, not caring for the smearing or sticking of their fluids between them.

            A soft touch passed along his stomach and Eddie’s voice was gravel. “Did that feel good, darling?”

            The smaller man hummed in the affirmative.

            “Are you still hot?”

            He was, and his mate would be able to tell by the temperature of his skin and the allure of his scent, so he answered an unasked question. “…tired…”

            Fingers skimmed his forehead, unsticking wet hairs from his skin. Then the arms were withdrawing from him, and Waylon surprised himself by reaching out with his hand at the receding body. Eddie caught his fingers and kissed them tenderly, then he tucked them back to the smaller man’s chest, supporting his hand there with a pillow. Several more were placed and fluffed along his front, but none at his back to allow the glistening sweat there to dry.

            “My pretty mate,” the patient murmured to himself. He touched below Waylon’s bottom lip, which made the omega forget himself and open his eyes to regard him.

            He didn’t like looking into Eddie’s eyes. They were such an unusual blue, large and piercing, made all the worse combined with the grin that all too often split his face. Even with the scabbing he was handsome, and that made things harder.

            The alpha left him only briefly and returned with an open bottle that he allowed his lover to take. He’d learned his lesson when he’d almost drowned Waylon the last time the technician had been too fucked to even notice the offering. Now, he held it out patiently, his thigh muscles supporting him in a squat that was not flattering, yet would probably have enticed Waylon had he the ability to be so.

            He took the bottle and guzzled it all down. Then he took the crackers offered to him and devoured those, too, licking the salt from his skin when they were gone. He was weak and he needed to have more. He slipped his hand on the thigh closest to him, pressing his fingertips into the tight muscle there. “…I’m still hungry.”

            “For me or for food?” Eddie’s brows rose high on his forehead, showcasing his own amusement at his jest.

            “Food,” Waylon said. Not long ago he would never had dared to shirk one of the bigger man’s jokes so outright, but he’d always been a fast learner. Diffusing the situation so that the alpha didn’t recognize his ire was the key, and the technician did that now by flopping back onto his side to make a dramatic show of his exhaustion.

            There was a chuckle at his own thigh then and teeth followed, nipping playfully. Then a hand settled on his hip and pushed him to lie on his stomach. He grunted against the discomfort but spread his legs when thumbs pulled his ass cheeks apart. Hot breath ghosted at his opening before a tongue licked it away.

            He was sore there, but it was buried deep under the numbness that had settled into his nerves post-orgasm, and so he endured the ministrations silently. The cleaning was superficial and then Eddie drew in a deep breath before he moved back from his mate’s flesh.

            “Sleep,” the alpha said. “We’ll see if it took when you wake.”

            Waylon did not reply, but rolled onto his side and kept his eyes closed. They wouldn’t be able to tell until his next heat, or lack thereof, but he did not say as much. There was no way the dominant man didn’t know that—all alphas knew that. Eddie, dominant as they come, was playing his own game, and he wanted his mate in it.

            The only sure thing now was that, though his heat was breaking, it was not gone. He surmised he’d need one more bout to be free of it, and then, without the passion and lust infused in his body, he’d have to face his situation.

            But for now he obeyed and slept.

 

            He hadn’t slept long, or maybe he had, when the door to their den bashed open against the wall. He jerked up, hissing at the aches on and in his skin, and propped himself up with his hands behind him, combatting the imbalance caused by the whirling of his mind. Eddie, fully dressed, stalked by him, yanking clothing from one of the dressers at the perimeter of the room. Then he pulled Waylon’s arms through the chosen shirt and lifted him to guide his legs into pants.

            “What’s going on?” Waylon clung to him, alarmed. His face was turned to the open door and the hallway beyond, straining to hear the ending of words and the upsurge of yells. They were too far to smell.

            “We’re leaving.” He took the omega’s wrist and pulled him to the door.

            Waylon made it there and then his legs buckled. “Eddie.”

            The patient made no hesitation in hefting his mate onto his back, hands holding the bottom of his thighs as they went. The smaller man held tight to his shoulders, peering over one as they went, fast and silent, as if his added weight was nothing to Eddie.

            Waylon wasn’t sure where they were going—his capture had been so swift and he’d struggled against his current bond-mate so much that the halls had been a blur. They were much like that now, whipping through his vision as they sought an exit.

            They made it to stairs, its lock opened and cast aside. From above Waylon could hear voices—lucid voices barking orders. Then he heard gunfire and, though hope burned in his lungs, he pressed all the closer to the patient, knowing that nothing would stop those bullets if they saw Eddie. The muscular arms weren’t about to relinquish him and, even if he could get free, the gore and panic of the place would make him indistinguishable from the patients who cried out in pain and anguish before their voices cut short.

            And then, with the sudden surge of his mate’s scent, the sudden protective tightening of his grip, that quickly-considered hope vanished, and the desire to remain near his mate commandeered his thoughts and sought above all their freedom.

            Eddie knew where he was going; he tucked them against walls, and ducked them out of sight when needed. At one point he remained, crouching and listening, for several long minutes until the sound of the soldiers dissipated enough for them to venture onward. When they got to the front entrance it was empty, save for bloody corpses and strewn body parts.

            They passed over a pool of gore accented by arms and legs of some poor bastard. Or at least, Waylon would have thought him a poor bastard, had he not recognized the suit sleeves the arms still wore.

            His alpha paid it no mind. He paused at the open doors and peered outside to the empty, armored vans, and then, without a glance back to squander their opportunity, tore into a run across the yard.


	2. A New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon and Eddie have escaped and need to find somewhere safe. Eddie's omega is going to be growing with child, after all, and they'll need a nice home to nourish his pregnancy.

            There were moments of vibrant lucidity, encapsulated by bright sunlight through tree branches, all framed by a car’s windshield. Soft music played, old-fashioned and almost melancholy, though the voice singing belonged to a different person each time he attempted to understand the words. That clued his mind to his lapsing in and out of sleep, and the false reality of the disjointed images that almost felt real, save for their backdrop being his closed eyelids.

            Only the tree branches were true—not the misshapen faces of attacking alphas, not the clear faces of his wife and sons, not the tempting ending of a solo escape aided by a fallen comrade. Only the tree branches, bathed in the sun and then dusk. Only the crooning radio.

            Only Eddie Gluskin, his pheromones calming and heating the warring confusion and emptiness that veiled Waylon’s mind whenever he could manage a few moments of wakefulness.

            When the grogginess finally, finally relinquished its hold, the sky was a deep purple, the precursor to the black nights in the mountain woods. The jeep was stopped and a hand was cupping his cheek.

            It felt and smelled good so he leant into it.

            “Darling.”

            His alpha was staring at him. There were no bright, florescent lights or the day’s glow to amplify the ice of his eyes, and so for once they were dimmed, and yet to the omega no less compelling.

            “Where are we?” The programmer shifted in an attempt to relieve the stiffness that had settled over his curled form. It did nothing but bring the damp spots of his clothes into contact with his skin and awareness. He grimaced and the patient somehow saw it, even masked as it was by the shadows of impending night.

            “Don’t worry, my Waylon. We’re parked for the night only. I’ll protect you.”

            Waylon didn’t bother to correct him, still weary and warm and now tense. He peered out the back window but could not see within nor through the cluster of trees to discern their distance from the nearest road.

            “We’re hidden,” Eddie reassured with a draping thumb lingering beneath his mate’s bottom lip. “You’re still hot.”

            It was true and the older man really needed to stop touching him because he had no recourse but to lean into it. To allow the tilting of his chin and the firm, commanding, domineering kiss that followed.

            “Once more and we can find a new home, beloved.”

            Waylon would have slept the symptoms away if he had been alone, but his alpha was right. One more rutting—just one, maybe even a soft, slow one—would break his fever. With this haze gone and his mind regained he could focus, he could remember that being manhandled into the back of a stolen car and out of his clothes, having his thighs spread and Gluskin’s head between them, tongue lapping, was not what he’d wanted. Maybe he’d hate himself for giving in.

            But maybe he’d remember the feel of corded muscle between his legs and weighing down his body, protective and arousing. Maybe he’d realize that the feel of lips, now tender and caressing at his bond mark were the cause of the slick at his opening and the pounding of blood in his extremities and ears and chest.

            He hoped he’d realize and not be too angry with himself. Maybe in the midst of soreness and self-loathing he’d remember that in his heat the feel of Eddie’s cock sinking into him from behind, the feel of his wide chest against his back, the large hand on his stomach, were the only things that had reassured him, that had calmed him, that had relieved all the pressure built up in euphoric, slow undulations.

            Maybe he’d forgive himself the keening sound that slipped once his alpha voiced praise into his ear.

            Thick fingers circled his belly in wide circles, settling under his navel where they pressed briefly. When they drifted down and took hold of the technician the thrusting became all his own. He rolled between the stimulations, pressing his weight back and using it to pivot the huge girth back inside, circling his hips to feel its pressure against his inner walls.

            “That’s it, my beautiful mate. You’re so good. You’re perfect.”

            A huge arm coiled about his torso, caging and supporting him. In that moment it felt the tightest he’d ever been held. It felt good and right and wrongly safe.

            There was a broad lick of widened tongue at the joining of shoulder and neck, hot breath painting the wet stripe immediately after. No teeth, just the sloppy worship of attention over a bond mark for which Waylon had never asked, but that would never matter to this alpha who seemed to worship the spot so. He sniffed it and nuzzled it and buried his face in the softness there, relishing the scent of Waylon’s tormented arousal.

            Eddie’s own pheromones were almost palpable in the still air of the car, clogging into the omega’s nostrils and pores. Was his own scent even still detectable? How would he ever smell like anything but the former mental patient? Was the excitement in that touch from how utterly possessed Waylon was; a celebration of submission and subsequent domination?

            The questions flitted through his mind, barely-there things dispersed by a sharp thrust or hot palm. They could be regained later, not now with his thighs slicked and breath hitched. Not now with the swell of a knot pushing, pressing at him until his body sucked it in and clamped around it, as if to keep them entwined forever.

            “Darling—…” Eddie’s thrusts were forced to rolling circles.

            The swollen gland pulled at his rim, the shaft tested his walls, and Waylon arched and was lost. His spend pooled from between Gluskin’s fingers, dripping onto the shivering skin of his stomach as the movement within him continued. The spurts inside of him were warm and unhurried, the amount lessened due to their numerous couplings. Still, it filled him, made him feel expanded as he and the alpha lie there together.

 

            A car door opened and closed once, and twice, and three times. It took a moment for Waylon, curled in the backseat, to realize that these were separate moments and that sleep had claimed the time between them.

            His eyes opened to mottled and muted sunlight, made so by the branches above the jeep. He was lying awkwardly along the back seat, legs crooked and half hanging, body sore and overused. He felt no compulsion to move until his mind registered the empty driver’s seat. Even then, he was slow in pulling himself into a sitting position with the help of the door.

            Eddie was nowhere to be seen through the windshield. Instead, he was staring at a mountain home. A gravel driveway led up alongside it towards a separate garage. The jeep was parked at the start of it, allowing Waylon a view of the house’s front. It was lovely, with a cobblestone walkway leading to the large porch that seemed to stretch around to the back opposite of the gravel. The home resembled a log cabin, as if to reinforce the idea of relaxation, and yet its roof was flat and modern. The second floor was lined with windows blockaded by blinds, denying him any glimpse inside.

            There were no lights, though perhaps that was due to the breaking of daylight. There were no other vehicles, though he couldn’t be sure with the garage closed.

            He wanted to see for sure but after opening his door and just before swinging his legs out he was visually reminded of his bare feet. It didn’t end up mattering, though, as the gravel gave a crunchy announcement of Eddie’s strong stride. He looked surprised for just a moment before giving that wide grin. Waylon’s stomach both flipped and churned.

            “You’re awake.” A chuckle. “Oh, my Waylon, you are a delight!” Most omegas would be sleeping for another day or two. But most omegas weren’t in his situation.

            He curled his fingers around the door handle to ground his thoughts and curb any trembling. “What are we doing here?”

            The alpha’s face shifted, oozing every bit of pride. “ _Here_ is our new home.”

            Waylon’s adams apple bobbed. “…This looks like it’s already someone’s home.”

            Eddie didn’t seem put off by this. “People move homes all the time. Come, I’ve found a way in.” Though he didn’t give the younger man much choice in the matter, lifting him effortlessly to carry him down the driveway to the back of the house.

            The yard was extensive, with an elaborate deck looking out over the view of the spacious land below and the other peaks in the distance. The back of the home was structured with huge revealing windows to best appreciate the nature outside. The place must have cost a fortune.

            Waylon was set down in one of the deck chairs that surrounded a detailed fire pit as Eddie crossed to a door that presumably led into a kitchen or laundry room. It had small, sectional window panes and the one above the doorknob was easily broken by his large and powerful fist. It was surreal how quietly it was done.

            Eddie dug his arm through the opening, not even a furrow upon his brow as he released the locks keeping them out. When he opened the door there was a soft chiming sound. Waylon’s heart leapt into his throat, but he choked it back down along with his words. An alarm system, yes, but not activated—that meant someone had to be home.

            His alpha took him in his arms again to cross into the house. The meaning was not lost on the smaller man, but he kept his mouth determinedly shut. Still, he noted the shiver in his own legs and feet where they dangled over a thick arm. Eddie noticed, too.

            “It’s nerve-wracking, isn’t it?” The door clicked shut behind them. “We will stay until our pup is born, maybe longer if you like it. It won’t do, moving you in your condition.”

            “And what if they come looking for us?”

            “They won’t find us,” Eddie said, and it may have been true. For all Waylon knew they could’ve driven to a completely different mountain. For all he knew the building had burned to the ground and there was no evidence they’d ever escaped. For all he knew, Murkoff had covered it all up and thought them dead. For all he knew, he might never get out of this house again.

            He did know, or suspect, that people were home, however. It was early, he knew that as well, but perhaps, maybe they’d awoken to the chime?  But if they did there was still danger there. Eddie could and would be easily provoked into protecting his mate with deadly force. Any homeowner out here was likely to have a gun, and what was stopping them from blowing Waylon’s brains out after Eddie’s? What’s to say there weren’t at least ten people living in the expansive home?

            They crossed through the laundry room with its new, brightly shining equipment, and traversed the hallway that led further down. There was a bathroom on one side and Eddie promptly set him to his feet as if he could also feel the throb of Waylon’s bladder. The technician went quickly and washed his hands with sweet-smelling soap and dried them on a clean towel. He couldn’t help but think how dirty he was, they were—how they had contaminated the house just by looking at it.

            They walked into the living room next, though it was more than that. It was spacious with an elaborate fireplace in front of which a couch and lazy boys were positioned. There were windows that spanned from the floor to the ceiling, spacious and revealing. Everything was soft browns and tans, complimentary and right in the mountain climate. Even the kitchen, which was open and could even be considered part of the same room, was decorated in such tones. It was clean, with ample cupboards, a marble counter top, and stools lined up against a long, rectangular island for quick eating. There was a long wooden table not too far off, as well. In another little nook was what seemed to be the entertainment area with another couch and large television mounted on the wall. When he looked up he could see the second floor, sectioned off by a hardy bannister with some open doors leading, perhaps, into guest rooms. A wall cut off the view at the end, and Waylon suspected that was the location of the master bedroom.

            He was staring at it intently before the sound of the fridge opening jolted him. He looked to where Eddie was hunched, arms moving within. He came back out with apple juice and a bowl of grapes which he set on the island. When he raised his eyes the look he gave Waylon was pointed.

            The omega moved to the food, too weak and hungry to deny his empty stomach. He slipped a firm grape into his mouth as the taller man scoured the cupboards. When he found a glass he filled it with the juice and pushed that to Waylon as well. The freshness of the fruit dissolving in his mouth and the light reflected off the surface of his drink gave the technician pause.

            “Someone’s still living here,” he said. “They’re going to wake up soon, we should go.”

            Eddie gave him a smile, one that was more reminiscent of those he gave in the asylum, one that forced Waylon to curl into himself, head low and shoulders to his ears.

            “Don’t worry, my love. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

            Waylon slowly put a few more grapes into his mouth, mulling over his words. He didn’t raise his eyes. “…And what if you’re the one to get hurt?”

            The former patient tilted his head and it looked as though he was attempting to decide between his emotions.

            “I mean, what if they have a gun?” the younger man was quick to assuage. “Or if they already woke up and called the cops? We should go.”

            Eddie walked to him, hands out to cup the sides of his face, forcing his eyesight up. “You worry so much…you’ll take good care of our pup.” One of his thumbs touched the corner of Waylon’s mouth. Blue eyes darted to it before he stooped low to tap their lips together. “I will go check.”

            He turned to go but the omega stopped him with a quick hand. “Don’t kill anyone.”

            His ‘mate’ looked at him as if he had two heads.

            “Please. They’re innocent.”

            “Darling,” Eddie laughed lowly. “You’re so caring.” He searched the smaller man’s face before giving a soft, almost put upon sigh. “I can’t promise you anything if they force my hand. Wait here.”

            He looked around and then began checking the drawers surrounding them. His fingers rose wrapped around a sharp knife and then he strode to the stairs and climbed them, two at a time though it seemed normal for his long legs. He checked each room as he passed until he disappeared behind that wall. Waylon let out a shuddering breath then, darting around, looking for a phone, looking for the car keys, looking for a weapon.

            No phone, the keys were obviously with Eddie, and the only weapons were the knives. He would never have the opportunity, let alone the reach or the strength to get a devastating, immobilizing blow on the alpha.

            Walking was not only painful but uncomfortable. He had a limp to his step and a soreness in his hips, still, he shuffled on while he had the chance. He looked over the sitting rooms, around the partial walls that barely separated different spaces into living areas, and out the window over the brightening view below.

            If it were night he might have been able to make out other homes, maybe roads by way of headlights, maybe he would be able to find an escape. Or maybe he’d come to find no homes directly nearby. And if he did? His alpha had his scent, and with the bond mark part of that smell was Eddie’s own.

            He put a hand the wood beside the glass, not wanting his fingers to leave smudges—how many times had he chided his boys over the same? No, he didn’t want to think about that or them. He didn’t want to think about his children. He didn’t want his hand to gravitate to his abdomen the way it did.

            There was no escaping an alpha once claimed, once marked, once filled. Eddie seemed positive that Waylon was already pregnant. There was an insistent, clamoring part of his mind that refuted it, that snarled as if _it_ were an alpha, as if it weren’t just a little voice in his head screaming in denial. Try as he might to listen to it, logic would always cover it, like a fire blanket snuffing out any sort of spark before it could blaze. Those days of rutting and all of them without his medication—the medication that would’ve prevented his heat in the first place—didn’t bode well for Waylon.

_His children._

            He could kill Eddie. Well, he could hope to get lucky and kill Eddie. It was more likely to result in his own injury. If he angered the patient enough who was to say he wouldn’t keep Waylon alive just to give birth before killing him? Right now he seemed to be considered as more than an incubator; if he jumped at an opportunity to attack and failed he would lose his life and ultimately damn the potential child to a life of only Eddie Gluskin.

_His child_.

            There was also the issue of losing a mate. Only an alpha could mark an omega and so Waylon had gone unmarked his entire life. He had only fooled around with betas and other omegas before meeting Lisa, who was a beta herself, as were their sons. Mating marks had never been a care for him. He had learned about them; it was essential for omegas to know. Once marked you weren’t supposed to want to leave your mate, though Waylon supposed the people teaching him had never considered one half of that pairing to be an absolute psychopath. You were supposed to have constant bursts of affection for your mate—and he did, god dammit, he did—and he hated the hormones running through him. He hated every biological aspect of it. He hated how aware he was and yet it was as if his chest, blooming and squirming, didn’t care about the nausea roiling his mind.

_Their child._

            Once mated you were compelled to remain together. There was no walking away. The end only came when one died. And with that death came unbridled anguish, supposedly so overwhelming it led some omegas into a paralyzing depression and their own eventual death. With others that depression never left and every remaining day was a struggle.

_Their baby._

            What real options did he have? If he left and got an abortion, he’d pine for both his alpha and the baby. If he left and had the child how could he look on it and not think of how he was defiled? Defiled and marked and alone and pining for a rapist. Any other choice—staying, running with Eddie forever—meant he’d never see the family he already had. He’d never have his life back.

            And yet how could he plan for anything? If he carried this child to term he would eventually have to go to the hospital. Male omegas had more difficulty giving birth than women; they had to be monitored and often undergo surgery. For many after the experience they were unable to get pregnant again. If that were Waylon’s case how useful was he to Eddie?

            And this baby. What about the baby? Would he be able to look it in its eyes? Would he be able to hold it, feed it, raise it? Would he be able to keep it safe? And then what if he was forced to stay, could he raise it to be okay despite all its surroundings? If he escaped, would he take it into his home with his wife and sons? Could he?

            The anxiety welling up in his chest, pushing up so high he could imagine it bubbling at the back of his throat, causing his fingers to curl and nails to scratch against the wood he’d been using for balance. He pressed his forehead above it, relishing the coolness against his skin as he stared at the rustle of leaves before him. It wasn’t enough, however, since he could still feel the slight nagging, clawing emotion at the back of his sternum, as if it were trying to force its way out physically from between his lungs.

            He jolted when there was a shout and then bang above him, springing back from the wall and window to stare in the direction of the noises. Loud thumps followed, sure footsteps and those that weren’t so sure—a second person who had fallen? But then he heard the dragging and then a scream, more like a yelp and realized before they even came into view what was happening.

            Eddie yelled something before he appeared, dragging an older man—no younger than his late sixties—across the second-floor landing and towards the stairs. He was mumbling but Waylon saw no blood. The alpha must have struck him, though not fatally. When he reached the stairs the former patient hefted him up by his armpits and started half-carrying him down, leaving the old man’s feet to hit each step on the way down.

            When Eddie reached the bottom floor he released his victim who cursed and rolled to his side. Then he turned and looked back up. His mouth was open as if to yell again, but he never needed to. Waylon had been right—there were people living here; an elderly couple secreted from it all in an attempt to live out their remaining days in peace. Peaceful was the last word he would use to describe the face of the woman who walked out. Her wrinkle-lined eyes were wide, her mouth was trembling, and she gripped the railing as if it were her final lifeline as she stepped carefully down to join them.  
  
            Eddie grinned at her. “Don’t be rude. Come welcome your guests.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my tumblr: grimmy88.tumblr.com
> 
> I want to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to those who sent me messages of understanding, kindness, and above all patience. You don't know how much it meant to me. Thank you for understanding how life gets in the way and how my real world obligations and goals had to come before fandom.
> 
> I am happy to announce that I was one of the first in my year to obtain their masters degree and I have an upcoming teaching job in Italy in the fall to show for it. As I've said, I had to sacrifice a lot to get it done because I experienced a very common depression that many masters student's suffer during their time in school. I'll make no excuses, but when I took breaks I had to do things that made me happy - exercise, video games, and reading - and so my stories for the Outlast fandom were left unfinished.
> 
> I can only say I will try to keep on a schedule now, I still have to make lesson plans around working and other obligations, but I will finish this story. I will try my best on A Redeemer.
> 
> Again, thank you for your understanding. I hope you'll enjoy what I have in store.


	3. Getting to know you...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the situation at hand, Waylon no longer has the luxury of disappearing into his own mind but finds himself needing to think quickly on his feet to keep their new 'hosts' alive.

            Pure dread rose in the back of Waylon’s throat, stifling any words he may have wanted to say. He dug his fingers into the countertop he had unconsciously moved towards, knuckles protesting at the pressure.  
  
            The patient motioned the woman forward. “Go on. Why don’t you take a seat on that couch? Your bones must ache!”  
  
            The programmer winced. _Terrify her and insult her within the span of two minutes, real nice._ But she did as he said, her wary eyes finding Waylon, staring at him with just as much distrust, suspicion, and fear. He didn’t think being struck in the asylum hurt as much as that.  
  
            Eddie reached down and picked up the old man by the collar of his shirt, lifting and choking him as he dragged him to a chair.  
  
            “Eddie,” Waylon croaked, voice found. “…I told you people lived here.” Using the countertop for balance he stepped closer to the situation. “We don’t have to hurt him, let’s just leave.”  
  
            The larger man sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils and threw the man forward. He landed with a grunt and was either wise enough not to rise or in too much pain to try. Eddie turned to the omega and cupped his face gently, in direct opposition to his previous actions. “My love is kind,” he said, seemingly to the elder pair. “So sweet.” There was a kiss to his forehead. “And if I had been as kind as he is…” He turned from Waylon back to the man, one arm reaching to the back of his pants. When his hand was visible again there was a handgun in it. “You would have shot me and then come down and done the same to him without even thinking.”  
  
            Well, that was going to make things tricky. The barrel pressed into the old man’s temple.  
  
            “No!” the woman gasped. “Please, don’t!”  
  
            “Eddie!” Waylon begged. “Don’t! Listen to me!”  
  
            The alpha paused, head tilted.  
  
            The technician took another step and hovered his hands over the broad shoulders but did not touch. “What if someone comes looking for them? If you kill them and a neighbor comes looking? Some kind of cop checks in?”  
  
            He could see Eddie’s jaw clench then his eyes slowly, so slowly, came to regard his young mate. He stood and shot his arm around Waylon’s waist, drawing him in close, forcing the outline of the gun into the lower part of his back. With his free hand he cupped his face again.  
  
            “Darling, didn’t you hear me?” He leant down to press their foreheads together. “He would have shot you. He tried to shoot _me_.”  
  
            Waylon’s eyes darted to the woman who was frozen in place, the man who was shaking on the floor, and then back to his alpha. Mind racing, he leant into the strong form in front of him, lifting his hands and putting them on Eddie’s chest. He smoothed the fabric down once, twice, and then raised his eyes and tried to smile.  
  
            “Listen to me,” he murmured, though he attempted to keep his voice loud enough for the elder couple to hear. Eddie’s eye twitched at the words so the omega sucked in a deep breath. “If someone comes looking and there are two strangers instead of them we’ll be in trouble… I can’t keep going, right?” He continued on when he was given no reply. “…They’ll know the area. We can make them help us…”  
  
            Eddie’s eyes tightened in confusion.  
  
            Waylon nodded towards the woman without looking at her, but neither did his mate. “It’ll be nice to have some help around, won’t it?” He drew the hand from his face and trailed it down, cringing as he put it on his stomach. He hoped Eddie couldn’t feel how it roiled beneath his touch. “She can help take care of me.”  
  
            “ _I_ will take care of you.”  
  
            Waylon laughed shakily and tried to nuzzle against him. “You already do.” He raised his hands to touch Eddie’s cheeks, feeling the scarring beneath his palms and fingertips. “Think of it this way: what if our positions were reversed?”  
  
            The alpha waited.  
  
            “What if they were us? What if someone shot you and took you away from me? Would you want me to go through that? Suffering without you?” He lowered his voice, whispering this time so his next words wouldn’t be heard. “…If they left my child fatherless?”  
  
            “They are betas.”  
  
            “They’ve spent a life together.”  
  
            The ex-patient straightened up away from his hands, gaze going to a spot behind Waylon as he contemplated. He took a moment before turning away, taking one long stride back towards the elderly man. He scooped him up by his shirt again, dragging him with one arm across the room. A sob escaped his wife and Waylon let his arms drop to his sides, lost.  
  
            Eddie stopped and seemed to regard the backyard through the large windows for a long time.  Finally, he threw his victim into the lazy boy next to them.  
  
            The man grunted but righted himself, dark eyes staring up.  
  
            “Don’t get up,” the alpha warned.  
  
            Waylon let out a loud rush of air. The man’s wife was wiping tears from her face.  
  
            The handgun was held up. “Do you have more of these in the house?”  
  
            The old man’s brows furrowed, his mouth pursed, and his nostrils flared. It made Eddie’s hand tighten on the gun.  
  
            “No,” the woman said. She swallowed and visibly steadied herself when the alpha regarded her instead. “There are no other guns in the house, I swear.”  
  
            “You let your wife speak for you?”  
  
            He might have expected his prisoner to get angry at that but the man didn’t even flinch, well, besides from his pain. “She’s my partner. Do you ever let yours speak?”  
  
            That earned him a sickening pistol whip that had the woman screeching and Waylon turning away with nausea taking hold of his gut.  
  
            “Didn’t you hear him? He’s keeping you alive.” He turned to the woman and was suddenly cordial. “Where do you keep your rope? Or duct tape.”  
  
            “Th-the garage.”  
  
            “Be a dear and get it for me. Don’t take too long.”  
  
            She looked to her husband helplessly but rose when he gave her a nod. She was trembling on her feet and almost fell right back down. When she passed by the corner she stumbled into it but caught herself. Waylon glanced back to his mate to see the impatience grow across his face. He swallowed down his dizziness and forced himself upright.  
  
            “I’ll go with her.”  
  
            “That’s not safe,” Eddie said.  
  
            “She’s an old woman,” Waylon assured him. “I don’t want her grabbing a baseball bat or something…”  
  
            The alpha nodded immediately. “Grab the biggest knife from that rack.”  
  
            He looked to the woman first to find her wide eyes already on him. He couldn’t make a facial expression at her but he held her gaze for a few solid seconds before slowly crossing further into the kitchen. He pulled out the largest knife as directed, catching the shape of his tired silhouette in its reflection. He then motioned for her to lead the way.  
  
            Still shaking, she did. She noticed the glass at the back door and then very carefully stepped over it with her purple slippers. Then her gaze dropped down to his bare feet. “…There are shoes in the laundry room. Right there.” She motioned.  
  
            Waylon took a step and then leveled her with a hard stare. “Don’t run. Or scream. Please.” He made sure he could still see her from the smaller hallway he’d gone down while he slipped on shoes that were too big for him. He rejoined her and then crunched over the glass and then the gravel of the driveway behind her and into the garage.  
  
            It was unremarkable inside. Their car was in it on one lonely side while a bench covered and hovered with tools lined the opposite walls. Waylon had been right to worry—while there wasn’t a metallic baseball bat in sight he did spot a crowbar, a shovel, and some hedge clippers that could do damage. If he thought the woman stupid enough to try.  
  
            She rummaged through one of the drawers freestanding next to the bench and came out with a roll of duct tape. She placed it down and then continued to go through the other drawers to find the rope. She peaked back at him now and again when she felt that it was taking her too long, nervous and pleading.  
  
            “I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her.  
  
            Her furrowed brow bought out the wrinkles in her face. She looked to his knife.  
  
            “I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated, firmer. “…My name’s Waylon.”  
  
            The drawer closed when she gave it a push with a pudgy knee. “…Barbara.”  
  
            “Barbara,” Waylon repeated. “…Do I look like I could do much in my condition?”  
  
            She had moved on to some racks hanging at the back of the garage, looking into small boxes and then moving aside when she didn’t find what she wanted. Finally, at last, she came back with a coil of rope around her age-spotted hands.  
  
            She twisted it and then looked to him. “You’re getting over your heat?”  
  
            The omega gave her a sad smile. “…I’ll do my best to keep him from hurting you, but we need a place to stay for a little bit. He’s not going to leave now that we’re here. You can’t make any wrong moves.” Then something occurred to him. “You said there weren’t any other guns in the house. Was that the truth?”

“...There aren’t any in the house. They’re in the shed at the end of the yard… I didn’t want them in the house.”  
  
            “What kind of guns?”  
  
            “Hunting rifles and a shotgun. He likes to hunt.”  
  
            This terrified Waylon who could suddenly only think of a broken bond leaving him depressed and empty and dying. He could only think of it snuffing out the life inside of him. It had been, still was, too early to make those choices. He wouldn’t let them be made for him.  
  
            Nor could he let them be made for this couple. “Is the shed locked?”  
  
            “Yes, it has a padlock.”  
  
            “Is the key in here?”  
  
            “It’s in our closet in a lockbox.” A smart way to prevent thieves or anyone else from stealing the weapons. A smart way to keep the guns out of either Eddie or the old man’s hands. A way to keep them from Eddie’s knowledge at all.  
  
            “Don’t try to go for it, he’ll be watching you all the time.” Waylon, however, could slip away for a time and find a place to tuck the box until it was completely forgotten.  
  
            “How long will you stay?” Barbara looked him over. “Until you recover?”  
  
            Waylon took the roll of duct tape. “…I don’t know.”  
  
            She didn’t believe him, but she didn’t accuse and her voice didn’t raise. In fact, she was oddly soft spoken in a kind way. “Do you need help, too?” His hesitation spurred her on. “We don’t have a house phone, but our cell phones are up in our room…”  
  
            “No. We can’t call for help.”  
  
            “I promise, we’ll tell them--…”  
  
            Waylon drew the neck of his shirt aside. “I. Can’t.”  
  
            She fell silent, the gray of her eyes piercing.  
  
            “Do you know what this means?” he asked.  
  
            “Yes,” she answered. “…I’m sorry.”  
  
            Waylon wanted to believe her pity wasn’t empty, that she wasn’t saying the words just to get on his good side. Just to make him feel like he had a person to trust. Just to make him soft. It would just end up getting her and her husband killed.  
  
            Her eyes, soft now, were still on him, assessing him anew. Looking over the way he was hunched, the way he hitched when he walked, and the tired bags under his eyes. “He forced it on you.” He suspected she wasn’t only talking about the mark.  
  
            “We need to get back.”  
  
            Her mouth, wisely, clamped shut and as quick as an older woman and a shuffling omega could, they made it back inside. Waylon kicked off the big shoes in the hall leading out to the open space of the house’s connected rooms.  
  
            Neither Eddie nor the old man had moved, though the former was grinning, just as he did in the asylum. Waylon wondered how long it had been plastered there. Judging from the uncomfortable posture and pleading face from the old man he supposed it had been the whole time.  
  
            Waylon put the knife back, took the rope from Barbara, and crossed to his mate to drape it and the duct tape over his shoulder.  
  
            “Which do you prefer, my love?”  
  
            There was an obvious twist to the old man’s features. He’d already seen them nuzzled up against each other, but Waylon hadn’t been able to really see his face. Homophobic, then. Or just showing disdain for what he took as lovers holding he and his wife hostage. Or had his earlier comment hinted that he realized Waylon was as trapped as he was?  
  
            “The rope.”  
  
            Eddie didn’t question it and took it, moving forward to tie the man’s hands behind his back and his ankles together quickly and efficiently. When the man strained against them it was obvious he had no leeway.  
  
            “Was there anything else in the garage?”  
  
            “Their car and some tools.”  
  
            The alpha stood and clicked on the gun’s safety before tucking it into the back of his pants again. He reached out to curl his fingers over Waylon’s shoulders. “How are you feeling, darling?”  
  
            “I’m okay,” the smaller man lied.  
  
            They both looked over at the creaking of the floor as Barbara stepped back to the couch. She froze in place but moved again when Eddie beckoned her to the end so she could be close to her husband.  
  
            She folded her hands in her lap over her pajama pants and then, after a few moments of watching her own fingers, looked up, first at Waylon and then Eddie. “…Waylon tells me you need a place to stay.”  
  
            “Did he?” The hands tightened.  
  
            “Yes.” Her voice quivered. “We want to help you… I’m Barbara. My husband’s name is Ron.”  
  
            “He tried to shoot me,” Eddie reminded her coldly.  
  
            Waylon put his hands against Eddie’s chest to steady himself, mostly so he wouldn’t be coerced into leaning into the alpha’s enthralling warmth. “You would’ve done the same to protect me if someone was coming into our home.”  
  
            “I won’t untie him,” the alpha declared.  
  
            “I understand,” Barbara replied evenly. “…He’s hurt, can I please give him some medicine and water?”  
  
            “We’ll need to know where the medicine is for me,” Waylon told Eddie. “She can show me the kitchen.” The larger man didn’t let him pull away, however, but curled their fingers together and followed. He tracked Barbara’s movements closely, staring into each cabinet as it was opened, learning and memorizing. He allowed the old woman to pass him and go to her husband but continued to observe.  
  
            Waylon found himself leaning into Eddie then. The alpha’s arm went around him instinctively but he didn’t tear his gaze away from Barbara tipping the glass of water to Ron’s lips. Well, not until Waylon’s knees began to buckle, so sudden it left him scrabbling at Eddie’s sides.  
  
            “Darling?” He was hefted higher.  
  
            “…I’m tired,” he said, overcome by the exhaustion and startled by how quickly it had come.  
  
            Eddie scooped him up. “…My poor mate. You should have spent this whole day sleeping.” He turned to Barbara. “You have a bedroom for us, don’t you?”  
  
            She hurried to lead them up the stairs, glancing back now and again. “Are you alright, Waylon?”  
  
            He wanted to tell her not to do anything stupid. He wanted to tell her to remain pleasant, to make no attempts to take advantage of any situation. To tell her that they had no advantage once he was out of sight and mind.  
  
            “It’ll be over soon,” he murmured instead.  
  
            “Yes, my darling,” Eddie said, carrying him through the doorway opened for them. He was settled into a queen-sized bed, clean smelling and soft. He allowed Eddie to maneuver him, remove his clothes, and tuck him into a roll of sheets and blankets. A thumb caressed his lips. “Sleep and it’ll be over soon.”  
  
  
  
            Waylon woke before he realized he’d fallen asleep. He was alone and the room was dim enough that he had to squint to make out a lamp on the beside table. He ran his hand over it, searching for a switch before finding the chain. He covered his eyes against the brightness of it while his sight adjusted. Then he leant back against the pillows and surveyed the room.  
  
            The bed was as he had felt, queen-sized and cushiony. The blankets were a blue that went with the lighter hue of the wall. At the end of them were a pile of clothes that he knew would be too large for him. The bedposts were white and shutter-like. The dresser against the wall was also white, old-looking, but clean. The closet opposite from the end of the bed also had similarly colored doors that were currently shut.  
  
            There were two paintings on the wall, one of a harbor nestled into a bay teeming with maritime activity, and another of the roiling waves of the sea as it encroached upon the shore. There were no pictures on the bedside table and nothing else remarkable to be seen.  
  
            He threw his arm out and swept the blankets off, swinging his legs to the side and setting his feet on the dark rug lining the floor. He gave himself a moment before pushing up and standing straight. He waited a few seconds for exhaustion or nausea to set in and was pleasantly surprised and grateful when neither came. It made putting on the clothes, a black t-shirt and some sweatpants, manageable.  
  
            He was fatigued, but he felt better, better than he had been in a long while. But then he remembered where he was. And then he realized that the dim light meant he had slept the day away. And then he realized that Barbara and Ron had been left alone with Eddie that entire time.  
  
            With the thought of Eddie came a seizing panic and instant longing. Though his heat had ended, their bond mark was new and young, demanding closeness and reassurance.  
  
            He threw the door open and lunged to the bannister, leaning over it and peering down into what he could see of the living room. Barbara wasn’t on the couch. Ron wasn’t in the chair. There was a delicious smell wafting to him and a quiet sound of comprised of irregular clinking.  
  
            “Eddie?” He tried to call, and then louder when he deemed that too soft. “Eddie?”  
  
            “I’m right here, my Waylon,” his voice called, charming and coaxing. He came into view then, smiling up at him and holding up his hand as he neared the bottom of the stairs. Waylon moved as if that hand were connected to him by a string, step for step, stair for stair until they met in the middle and then descended together.  
  
            Even tucked tightly into the taller man’s side, Waylon hadn’t turned his eyes from his mate’s face. There was more color to it, and maybe he was seeing things, but there seemed to be less scarring here and there. He had also changed into new clothes that fit him in girth only due to Ron’s larger middle.  
  
            The thought struck through him. “Where are they?” He turned and fell silent.  
  
            At one side of the dinner table sat Ron, legs tied to the chair but hands free. Barbara walked into his view a moment later, just as worried as she’d been all those hours ago. She was carrying a bowl of green beans which she set on the table with barely a clink. It was the last piece to the full meal spread out across the space. She then took her seat beside her husband.  
  
            “Shh, it’s alright, darling. We’ve come to an understanding.” Eddie led him to the table and sat him in his seat across from Ron. Then he took his own. “You woke up just in time for dinner.”


	4. All about you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tense dinner where questions are raised, boundaries are made, and Waylon receives a little gift.

            Dinner smelled and looked amazing. In the middle of the table sat delectable chicken breasts, seasoned visually and topped with slices of lemon. In bowls surrounding them were green beans, mashed potatoes, and some golden rolls. Each table setting had a glass of milk and water before it. Waylon’s stomach clenched almost painfully.  
  
            He was tempted to forgo all manners and judgement to pile everything on his plate and tuck it away. There seemed to be a part of him, that new, constant fearful part, that worried something would happen soon—a minute, an hour, tomorrow—and if it did he didn’t know when he’d be eating again. He tramped that down, though and let silence settle over the table.  
  
            After a moment he started with the realization that Eddie, conservative, old-fashioned Eddie, was waiting for him to make their plates. He stood in a stuttering sort of manner and reached out to take the alpha’s plate. His hand was taken and held, however.  
  
            “Sit, love.”  
  
            Waylon did and looked to the older man’s face. His eyes were settled on Barbara, but there was, blessedly, a patience in them. Once she met them she gave a weak smile and stood, taking Eddie’s plate and loading it with food. When she made to set it in front of him he redirected it to rest in front of the omega instead.  
  
            “My mate needs his energy.”  
  
            Lesson seemingly learned, Barbara filled Eddie’s plate next, then her husband’s, and finally her own before taking her seat. There was that urge again to inhale everything placed in front of him but also a hesitation when reaching for his utensils. Nobody else had made a move for their own and their faces, Barbara’s, and _Ron’s_ especially—with its bruising and judging eyes—unnerved him. There was pantomime there: an outward expression meant to be calming but smiles and looks that were stuck all wrong.  
  
            “Don’t worry,” Eddie told him. “Mrs. Davis made everything in front of me and I’ve made her take a little taste of it all.”  
  
            He would, and it made sense. Waylon didn’t want to die choking on rat poison-flavored mashed potatoes. And maybe he’d be worried if it had been anyone else, but Barbara seemed too smart and timid for something that morbid. She’d hold out hope that she could resolve things with her kindness, just like Waylon did with his brains. Maybe her attribute would benefit her or maybe Eddie would see right through it.  
  
            Maybe he’d end up seeing right through them both.  
  
            “It looks good,” Waylon tried, voice coming out little more than a whisper. He turned to the cook who curled her lips at him.  
  
            “Thank you.”  
  
            There was a beat, a moment that hung not only heavy but awkward. Waylon looked to Eddie and saw the elderly couple do the same in his periphery. The alpha released the technician’s hand and reached for his knife and fork. And then Barbara spoke.  
  
            “We normally say grace.”  
  
            Waylon still possessed the sense and decency to be chagrinned. Eddie just laughed.  
  
            “Why?”  
  
            The woman regarded them. “We’re Christians.”  
  
            “Why?” It was repeated with less mirth this time.  
  
            “What do you mean ‘why?’” Ron demanded.  
  
            “I mean…” Eddie’s fingers curled around his knife. “Why do you believe in something that isn’t real?”  
  
            Waylon looked to the old man; his jaw was tense, clamped to keep back the bite of a retort. There was anger in his brow and exhaustion in his eyes. The omega could understand that and truthfully was a little surprised by his mate’s question. Eddie seemed obsessed with the idea of a family–a perfect, American family–and often that was associated with religion. Waylon had never felt that way himself, and he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or unsettled by the similar opinion he and the ex-inmate shared.  
  
            The knife pointed to Ron. “God wouldn’t let the things I’ve seen happen.”  
  
            Well, Waylon agreed to a point, especially regarding the horror of the asylum. No god would’ve punished a man aiming for redemption, would he? Not the way Waylon was being punished.  
  
            “There is no God,” the alpha decided. “The king of gods is a father, and his queen is the mother. The mother gives him children and cares for them, but he protects them all. He protects them from the world—he doesn’t let anything hurt his family or his babies. He doesn’t let anyone _touch_ his babies.”  
  
            A sheet of discomfort covered them, setting into every crevice of their uneasy silence. The technician could swear he felt the weight of the intoned word curling around the back of his neck.  
  
            “So you’re a god?” Ron asked.  
  
            “I’m a father,” Eddie said simply.  
  
            _Not yet_ , Waylon’s mind bit immediately, almost viciously. He knew Ron had thought the same.  
  
            “I provide for my family—everything I do is for my mate. If there was a God why would you be tied to a chair? No, there is no God; there are only strong men.”  
  
            “A strong man builds his life, he doesn’t steal it from someone else.”  
  
            Eddie surged up but before he could move away from his seat both Waylon and Barbara took action: one physical and the other verbal. The omega wrapped both arms around his mate’s bicep and the old woman spoke:  
  
            “We believe in God, and God believes in helping guests and those in need. No matter what you believe, we are Christians and we can’t turn you away.”  
  
            The former patient regarded her coolly.  
  
            “Waylon needs a safe place and our home is that. I can also help him get ready or motherhood.”  
  
            He’d need a way to thank his ally later, but for now Waylon kept his eyes on the man in his grasp, silent but pleading.  
  
            “You’ve had children?” the alpha questioned.  
  
            “No, but I helped my sister with hers when they were babies. And I can cook and sew… no new mother is every really ready for the first baby.”  
  
            Eddie finally looked down to his mate who hadn’t moved nor changed expression. They searched each other, silent and reading and Waylon hated that he could feel and hear the emotions and thoughts flowing between their shared look. Finally, the alpha gave in, slackening under his mate’s hold until he was released and could take his seat again.  
  
            “Say your prayer, then.” He settled on being amused again and regarded Barbara closely as she folded her hands together.  
  
            Waylon sat and watched as well, keeping his hands flat on the table and head upright in mimicry of his partner.  
  
            “Lord, we thank you for the bounty we are about to receive. We also thank you for our guests. We ask that in this time of trial you give us strength to protect and understand one another. We hope that through this test we prove ourselves worthy of your love and guidance. Amen.”  
  
            “Amen,” Ron echoed hollowly.  
  
            Barbara gave her mate a tight smile and then chanced a look to her guests. Eddie was propped up on his elbow, cheek in hand, with a bemused smile reaching his eyes. It was clear he hadn’t believed her words, even if she had. Even so, he said nothing and turned his attention to cutting his meat. As though given permission, Waylon did the same.  
  
            He tried to restrain his hunger, even when the first zest of lemon hit his tongue. Even when the natural flavor of a perfectly cooked chicken followed. He knew that it wasn’t polite as a guest to shovel an entire plate of food in his mouth, but mostly his saboteur was, of course, Eddie. The bigger man ate slowly, eyes only darting down to his plate when he went for another forkful. Otherwise, they flitted back and forth between his companions.  
  
            Waylon would have to learn, and fast, what his limits were. He liked to be placated, that much was evident. He liked to be praised. But the question was what he expected of his mate. A mother, obviously—and Waylon didn’t dwell on that too long because he wanted to enjoy his meal—but also a ‘queen.’ Being an omega was enough to qualify the technician for that, regardless of outward genitalia, apparently. Would he have to fulfill this man’s fifties fantasy? A docile, serving wife? He smiled inwardly to himself—his old mate would’ve kicked his ass had he demanded something like that of her.  
  
            Old mate? The smile fell, as did his fork right into his potatoes.  
  
            The alpha’s hand shot out immediately, heavy on his shoulder. “Darling?”  
  
            “I’m fine,” Waylon lied immediately. “Sorry.” He retrieved his fork and cleaned the handle with his napkin before setting them both aside to gulp down his glass of water. The hand on him didn’t leave, its owner unconvinced.  
  
            “I’m fine,” he repeated once he could, meeting Eddie’s eye. “I was thinking too hard.” He turned his head to look at Barbara. “It’s really good.”  
  
            “Thank you,” she said. “Would you like me to get you more water?”  
  
            He shook his head since he still had a full glass of milk. The steadying touch fell away and he leant back against his chair so he wouldn’t follow it.  
  
            “Are you two retired?” He asked to avoid lapsing back into his own thoughts. He hoped he could distract himself enough to forget the treacherous two words, to never think them again.  
  
            “Yes,” Barbara answered for them.  
  
            “What do you do all day?”  
  
            “Oh, well, we both have our hobbies.” She pointedly took a big bite of food to give herself a moment and Waylon could kick himself. Ron was a hunter. _Idiot, you’re trying to keep those guns hidden._ “I like to take walks, Ron builds figurines, we’ll work on the computer or watch television, things like that.”  
  
            “You have a computer.” His mind stopped.  
  
            “Of course we have a computer,” Ron retorted.  
  
            Eddie pointedly set his milk glass down harder than necessary and the old man became very invested in his food.  
  
            Waylon didn’t care about his tone, though, he’d known plenty of older people who didn’t have computers or who hadn’t bothered to connect them to the internet. He hesitated to ask, though, whether theirs was one of the latter. If it was connected and he could get to it… He glanced around, trying to locate it or their router.  
  
            “It’s in the den,” Barbara said, aiming for helpful.  
  
            “Just the one computer?” Eddie asked, damning Waylon’s hope.  
  
            “Just the one,” Ron said too quickly.  
  
            The alpha smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He picked up his knife and looked to the point of it and then to Barbara. She was eating daintily, eyes on her husband. Even Waylon could tell they were lying. And then in a sudden movement the former inmate had snatched Ron’s wrist and pinned his hand flat to the table.  
  
            The elder man hadn’t been given a knife nor a fork—his wife had been responsible for cutting his meat—so when he flailed about with his left hand and only came up with a spoon he didn’t bother to clutch it, knowing how futile brandishing it would be. He hissed and teetered on his chair, ankles bound to it, as his arm was stretched as far as it could be. Eddie rested the tip of the blade to one of his veins but did not push, yet. He simply looked to Barbara and waited.  
  
            “…We have a laptop in our bedroom,” she reported in a quiet voice.  
  
            “’Help us understand one another,’” Eddie mocked. “You should _understand_ what lying to me means.”  
  
            “She told you,” Waylon finally found his voice.  
  
            “Only when threatened.”  
  
            “They’re slow learners. They know now. I wasn’t the fastest learner, remember?” Waylon knew his luck with keeping the old couple from harm would give out one day, but he was determined it not be on the same day as their meeting. “Can we finish dinner? It’s really good… unless you like bloody mashed potatoes.”  
  
            He didn’t know why he said it aloud. Morbid humor was usually lost on older generations, he knew. He supposed the important thing was that it wasn’t lost on Eddie, whether it be because he was a killer or the asylum, it didn’t matter. When you see as much gore and death as they had what else could you do but laugh at it or curl into a ball?  
  
            As it were, Eddie was a laugher. The programmer couldn’t remember ever being more pleased about anything. He could place another check next to making the taller man laugh as a means to abate his anger.  
  
            The knife was removed and Ron released simultaneously as the alpha straightened. His laughter was deep, almost from his belly, and he looked surprisingly human with laugh lines on his face.  
  
            “I wouldn’t want to ruin your appetite,” he even quipped.  
  
            Waylon stared at him as though he’d grown a second head; watched him sit and shake his head to himself, still chuckling. There was a surge of something in the technician’s chest then that he resolutely would not label, though he could not deny it was a good feeling, welcome amongst all the confusion, fear, and anxiety to which he’d become accustomed.  
  
            He forced his eyes away, though, suddenly feeling stubborn, turning to Barbara on his other side. She mouthed ‘thank you’ to him and even in this short time he could recognize the gratitude in her expression. He nodded and then looked to Ron. He expected the same sort of look in his weathered face, but was instead vexed to find steel in his eyes: the same given to Eddie.  
  
            Only one ally, kind but truly a slow learner. Ron would end up killed trying to play the macho hero. Waylon redirected his gaze to his meal, frustrated and annoyed, though he refused to let it show. He was clearly trying to help them—so clear he’d expected Eddie to turn on _him_ instead—and yet he was going to receive the same venom from the old beta? He was in a worse position than their captives—all they had to do was stop lying and play nice and Waylon could save them.  
  
            “Eddie, can I make you a second plate?” Barbara asked.  
  
            “Only after my Waylon has had his. I wasn’t lying when I said he needed his energy.”  
  
            Waylon hadn’t even realized he’d sucked down the rest of his meal, but the white of his plate was staring up at him and his stomach wasn’t full so he passed it to her and dug back in when it was returned.  
  
            Thankfully the remainder of the meal was spent in silence, spare the clinking of utensils and sipping at glasses. The omega leaned back when he was finished, full and content for the first time in what felt like years, though knew it was only days. Barbara rose and began to collect their plates and without a second thought Waylon rose to help her bring the remainder of the tableware to the sink.  
  
            “I didn’t make a dessert,” she whispered to him. “I don’t really have anything other than cookies.”  
  
            Putting even a crumb of food in his stomach would likely be enough to push him into discomfort so he shook his head and began rinsing things to put in their dishwasher. She turned to the table.  
  
            “Would anyone like coffee and cookies?”  
  
            “No,” Eddie said. He was retying the male beta’s hands behind his back. “I don’t think Ron needs either of those. I wouldn’t want you to stay up past your bedtime.”  
  
            The older man’s jaw clenched and he wisely kept it that way. Another rule settled: no coffee at night. Nothing that could keep the couple up later than their intruders. They’d be lucky if he allowed them it in the morning; it would be a good way of keeping them groggy and slow throughout the day. Waylon finished loading the dishes and looked back at Eddie who stared at his prisoner but at the same time didn’t. He was thinking behind that piercing look. Planning, considering, judging, who was to know until he voiced it.  
  
            Waylon wasn’t happy when he did.  
  
            “Which room is the den?”  
  
            The female beta glanced over at him and then nodded to a door under the stairway. “That one with the door closed.”  
  
            “Would you go fetch that laptop for me?”  
  
            “Of course,” she said, clearly unsure as she wiped her hands on a towel. With a sparing glance at Waylon she disappeared to the second floor.  
  
            “What are you going to do with it?” the programmer asked.  
  
            “Break it.”  
  
            The disappointment was evident on his face, he knew that even before he saw Eddie’s eyebrows crinkle. He couldn’t find a way to conceal it.  
  
            “What’s wrong, my darling?”  
  
            He looked up at the larger man when he stepped close, torn. When his cheek was cupped—and would Eddie ever stop doing that?—he voiced his misery: “Do you remember what I did before you cau—found me?”  
  
            His mate’s brow remained low in question as he sought the answer in the face before him. Waylon didn’t know if he’d remember, what he could remember, if he should remember. His luck would be better if he didn’t remember how the smaller man let him be hooked up to that machine. At the time, there had really been nothing he could’ve done to stop it. He had sent out his e-mails before the incident, knowing he wanted to stop the inhumane and torturous things he had seen, and then he’d been caught. But would that be explanation enough now?  
  
            “You,” Eddie said, “…were sitting at a computer?”  
  
            The omega’s breath caught. “Do you remember what I was doing?”  
  
            And then it was released in one shuddering breath when Eddie shook his head. “I only remember your beautiful eyes and your face behind a computer. What were you doing?”  
  
            “…I was working on a program,” Waylon said carefully. “I made programs for computers. I really like them.”  
  
            His response wasn’t questioned nor dwelt upon further. The older man just laughed and stroked a thumb along his cheekbone. “And so the sad face! Oh, Waylon.” Lips touched his forehead. “I can’t let them stay. It’s just like you said: what if they try to call or get ahold of someone?”  
  
            Before he could reply Barbara made her way to them, holding the laptop out as if it were an offering. Eddie took it in one of his big hands and with the other motioned her on to the den.  
  
            Inside it was exactly what he might have expected the den of an older couple to be. Like the rest of the house the walls were wooden but that rich brown color comprised the bookcase, the desk, and even the leather seat was a deep brown. With the lights flicked on everything took on a golden sheen and Waylon couldn’t help but think again that a lot of money went into this home.  
  
            The computer atop the desk was average—another thing he expected of an elderly couple. They used it for their basics like e-mail or shopping online and it was enough to get the job done. Nothing that was going to be performing any complex programs or capable of running any worthwhile games. The laptop in Eddie’s hand, however, seemed to be a new purchase, or at least newer. It was a model he could use.  
  
            His eyes fell to the router, standing tall with its blinking green lights beside the monitor. He pointed to it. “That’s for the internet.” Though Eddie most likely already knew this. “Take the cord from the back and then the computers are useless.”  
  
            Eddie looked to him with a strange expression, put upon and patience run down. “…Which would you like?”  
  
            “Really?”  
  
            The alpha gave a deep sigh, as if he wasn’t too sure about the decision either. “When you grow larger it will be harder to walk and if this will keep you happy during those final months I can’t deny you.”  
  
            Waylon couldn’t stop his grin. “Thank you.”  
  
            “When I ask, you let me see what you’re doing. When you want to go online you ask and I will put it on. You will go online only when you’re sitting where I can see everything you’re doing.”  
  
            What could he do but nod?  
  
            “You always keep it with you or hidden. I don’t want them touching it. If they do I’ll break it into pieces.”  
  
            He nodded again and stepped toward him, motioning to the laptop. When it was deposited into his hands he curled it up in his arms and against his chest, holding it there and trying not to let his burgeoning hope show on his face. Eddie seemed amused at his but then his face fell into his distant, chilling, expectant look. Waylon did his best to pretend he hadn’t noticed the shift, to pretend that he had been caught up in the moment, before he drew the former patient down by his sleeve to kiss his chin.  
  
            “Thank you, Eddie.”  
  
            “A real thank you.”  
  
            Although he could feel the gray of Barbara’s eyes on his back he still rose on his toes dutifully and pressed his lips to the ones above. He let them be claimed, he let the kiss get too deep for a stranger’s eyes, and when it ended he remained close until the larger body stepped away first.  
  
            The power cord for the router was plucked away then, those green lights disappearing immediately. Eddie curled it slowly around the meat of his hand, considering his mate and his gift. Then he crouched down, lifted the PC up, freed it from all its cords, and tucked it safely beneath his armpit before he strode from the room.  
  
            The beta and omega followed obediently.  
  
            Waylon stopped at the couch, glancing at Ron who craned his neck to follow Eddie go to the fireplace. Barbara moved to his side and then they all watched the muscular man whip the machine into the empty, stone fireplace as if it had been as simple as throwing a baseball.  
  
            There was a sad crunch and Waylon didn’t have to find a new position to know how badly dented it was. His partner was unsatisfied, however, and yanked the sad, deformed rectangle back out so that he could whip it back in. He did it again and again, metal and plastic skittering and hissing against the stones in larger and larger pieces upon each successive throw.  
  
            Waylon sat carefully on the couch, silent and unmoving while the mess was cleaned. Silent and unmoving when Eddie untied Ron’s ankles from the chair and shoved him to the cushy lazy boy nearby. Silent and unmoving when Barbara and Eddie followed. Silent but moving when his alpha sat beside him and lifted his arm. He moved right into his place.  
  
  
  
            While Waylon had slept the day away, Eddie had contemplated and fixed their problems. Well, the problem of their hosts anyway. He’d taken a visit to the garage with Barbara in tow, apparently, and had rigged up a simple way of telling when the elder pair moved from their rooms at night. He had separated them into different bedrooms; the wife in the master and Ron in a guestroom. Above each door he had hammered a nail and hung an alarm. In the case of the guest room it was a bell and for master bedroom a set of chimes.  
  
            He also made it so that the knives and gun disappeared so entirely that Waylon wasn’t even sure where he hid them. With these disappearances followed the hiding of the router cord, the tools he’d brought in that he apparently decided were going to be useful in the near future, and anything else that could be used against them.  
  
            In the back of his mind the omega realized that some of those items would be stashed in what was meant to become their bedroom. The router cord and the weapons, though… those were hidden somewhere else. Eddie didn’t suspect that Waylon would use the latter on him, and he was right, goddamn him. No, he knew the router cord was much more valuable, and dangerous, in Waylon’s possession.  
  
            The bell rang softly and then a minute or two later so did the chimes, their harmonious sounds drifting down the hall and under the opening of the door to reach Waylon in bed. He turned on his side, knowing what this mean, curling in upon himself and taking up as little space as possible on the far end of the mattress.  
  
            His mate joined him then, leaving their door wide open so those noise-makers would act as their alarms if necessary. He heard the shuffling of clothing, the distinct sound it made pooling onto a bedroom floor, and the parting of blanket and sheets from one another. The air wasn’t so cold that it bothered him and even if it had the alpha’s heat immediately warmed the air trapped under the blanket.  
  
            Waylon kept his back to him. During his heat the bigger man had never gone far, in fact, he seemed loathe to be doing anything but touching his omega back then. But that was then, when the fever and ache controlled mind and body. And now he was dread and denial.  
  
            Denial in the way his stomach grew light when a muscular arm snaked around him and tugged him close, denial in the way he enjoyed and welcomed the warmth and firmness against his back, denial in the way his head swam when that dominant scent overwhelmed him. Denial because it was the hormones.  
  
            Hormones that made him pliant when gently turned onto his back and then further, so that they were face to face. Hormones that made him stare into the blue eyes with the thought that they weren’t so bad. Hormones that didn’t let him pull away. Hormones that caused his heart to expand when Eddie’s hand drifted across his body, thumb dragging along a nipple and then down the side of his ribs all the way down to his hips. Hormones that made it expand even further and then beat irregularly when he had shied from the touch, voicing his soreness, to receive a soft, soothing rumble in return and no further lewd movement from the hand. Hormones that made him enjoy the way it traced the skin of his back instead.  
  
            Hormones that made him tuck his head beneath Eddie’s chin, that made him press his face to the thick neck, to inhale his pheromones where they were strongest. Hormones that made that enough to lull him to sleep once more.


	5. Getting to like you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon wakes in the night and Eddie tends to him, whether the omega wants it or not.

            Waylon’s bladder woke him sometime in the night. This time, however, he knew immediately where he was and to whom the warm arms surrounding him belonged. At some point, he had turned back on his side which had allowed the larger man to spoon behind him. He could feel the tip of his nose just touching his scalp.

            There was no debating holding it in because there _was_ no holding it. He couldn’t remember pissing after they’d left the asylum, and so it made sense that it had finally caught up with him.

            Gently, but quickly, he set his hands on the forearms around him and started peeling them off. Instinctively, and predictably, they tightened. There was a loud exhale against the back of his neck, a sound one makes when rousing back to reality, not at all unlike bursting through the surface after a deep dive. Maybe Eddie’s dreams had been deep. For his sake, Waylon hoped they hadn’t been as deep as they’d been in the asylum.

            He attempted to pry the arms from himself again.

            “Mm, darling?” Eddie’s arms relented and his eyes, half-opened and fogged with sleep and questions, tracked Waylon as he clambered over the larger form.

            “I have to go to the bathroom,” Waylon explained softly. “Go back to sleep.”

            The alpha made another ‘mm’ sound but sat up after his mate, dangling his long legs over the side of the bed as Waylon crossed to the door. “I’ll go with you. Need to check on our hosts…” He made no immediate move to get up, however, head hung low and nostrils flaring with deep breaths. He even wobbled a little from side to side as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.

            It struck Waylon then how good Eddie was at hiding his exhaustion, at hiding his physical limits. It also struck him of how endearing a sight it was to see the strong man battling the lure of sleep.

            Suddenly annoyed with himself, the programmer looked away. “I’ll check. You need your rest.”

            But the older man waved his hand and made it to his feet, blinking his eyes rapidly and wide. Waylon turned from him, not wanting to see how young and vulnerable the alpha looked upon waking. He also didn’t want to piss in the hallway so he scrambled into the doorway beside theirs, cupping himself until he could lift the toilet seat and begin spilling into the bowl with a relieved sigh.

            The upstairs wasn’t entirely expansive, but the rooms containing their elders were at the very end of the hall and so it should have taken Eddie a minute or two to go sniff out their scents and confirm that they hadn’t moved. It probably would have, if the former patient hadn’t followed his mate, instead.

            Waylon resolutely did not look up, cursing his bladder for holding so much urine and cursing his face for heating up so quickly and hotly when he felt those light eyes on him. He tried to push it out faster, but the stream stuttered to a stop when wide hands settled on his sides. They smoothed his shirt and then lifted it up, exposing his stomach and abdomen. Eddie hunched behind him, chin on his shoulder as one of those hands trailed down under Waylon’s belly button, thumb and forefinger pressing prominently but gently down his pubic bone just above his penis. When thick fingers took the place of his own, Waylon dropped his hand to his side, flustered.

            “Are you done?” Eddie asked, voice husky with both sleep and arousal.

            Unable to answer, the omega dropped his head, ashamed of the way his heart had sped up. Ashamed of the way his stream started again. Ashamed of the way his dick was twitching with interest by the end of it. Ashamed of the way the larger man stroked it to hardness so quickly.

            Lips caressed his neck as fingers did below and Waylon’s head tilted to the side. The touches were soft and gentle along his tendons, flitting on his nerves. Eddie’s free hand slid up his other side, slipping under the fabric and raising it up his chest so he could trace the pads of his fingers over one of his mate’s nipples and then the other, extracting the omega’s voice from his throat.

            “Eddie,” he recovered from his gasp, voice now a whisper. “Not in here; they’ll hear.”

            There was a deep, attractive chuckle at the shell of his ear. “You’re a funny omega. I thought you demure when we first met, but you were so wanton for me in our den.” The grasp on his cock tightened in the best of ways and Waylon’s hips bucked forward. “You didn’t care if anyone heard us there. You wanted them to hear what I did to you.”

            “I was in heat,” Waylon replied, unconsciously raising a hand to the back of Eddie’s head. It was an unfair comparison, to say the least, considering the only thing he’d wanted—needed—was a cock in him. _Eddie’s cock._

            Instead of answering, the older man’s mouth worked over his fresh bond-mark. The response was almost drug-like in the way the pleasure sparked outward, down and through his body, turning all his joints to jelly. He dropped his weight back against the larger man, groaning despite himself, eyes closing.

            “My Waylon,” Eddie murmured.

            “Please,” the omega tried again.

            His alpha huffed, though it wasn’t an annoyed sound. He pressed one last kiss to their mark and then withdrew. “Go wait for me in bed.”

            Waylon obeyed, ducking out of the bathroom and back into what served as their bedroom quicker than he’d moved in the last couple days. He got his body back under the blankets, attempting to warm his feet after being on the cold tile of the bathroom and listened. He heard Eddie’s own stream, loud and long, before the flushing of the toilet. After that he barely heard any footsteps, and only the sound of the shifting wood because he was straining to hear. If he hadn’t been wearing shoes in the asylum—well, it wouldn’t have changed things.

            Before long the taller man was a shadow in their doorway. Waylon could see him swipe his hair back, knew he was standing there, staring at his mate’s form beneath the covers before he advanced.

            The engineer moved slightly aside for him and did not turn away when the blanket and sheets were drawn back, nor did he draw away when the large body pulled him close. Eddie’s breathing was deep, so deep his voice came with it, a grumbly hum at the end dripping from his throat, betraying his enjoyment. And Waylon liked it, _fuck, he liked it_.

            The big hands splayed across his back and the smaller man pressed forward, pressed his chest against the stronger one and wound his arms around the broad shoulders, burying his face in that thick neck yet again. And he breathed deep and couldn’t deny that he liked that, too.

            He liked how big and different Eddie felt against him—how muscular and hard. He liked how easy it was for the other man to entirely engulf him in both body and smell. He liked and he liked and he wanted. Even after his heat, _he wanted._

            Eddie’s thumb tracked along his spine and a tingle ran straight up from the touch. Waylon shifted his head when it hit his neck, resting back on the pillow so he could look in his mate’s eyes. Neither man moved for several moments besides those big palms, soothing and slow.

            He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, exactly. He wasn’t sure why it wasn’t uncomfortable, why he was able to look and see the blue rims and the shades within and not withdraw. Did the hormones control this, too?

            He slipped one of his arms back, bending his elbow so he could touch the scarred eyebrow before him. Eddie’s eyes closed and all there was in the room was their breathing, their touching, and the discomfort of the quiet, _sweet_ moment the alpha seemed to be relishing.

            Gently, Waylon worked his hand down to cup Eddie’s cheek. When the eyes opened, they were bright and clear and adoring, wide at first and then wrinkled in the corners when joy overtook them.

            The alpha shifted up for a kiss and Waylon welcomed it, closed his eyes and responded to it with a little press of his own. They traded these soft caresses for long minutes: soft kisses, soft touches, soft sighs. Maybe the omega hoped he could get the other man to sleep or maybe he enjoyed the attention. He couldn’t recall ever being on the receiving end of such doting and devouring affection.

            Maybe that’s why his arms tightened and he pressed closer into it, all of it. Maybe that’s why he allowed himself to be repositioned on his back, allowed his clothes to be removed, allowed himself to watch Eddie remove his own, allowed himself to enjoy the sight of the former patient naked above him, allowed himself to want the touches on his chest and hips and thighs, allowed his arms to lock and refuse to let the other body go too far.

            They kissed again, but now the intensity that had been building in the bathroom was back. There was a firmness, a certainness to the lips upon his own. He opened to them and then wider when Eddie’s tongue slipped along and between. And when that slick muscle dipped deeper the smaller man met it with his own, wet and searching.

            A groan was shared between their mouths, and the knowledge that it was Eddie’s sent a rush through the technician’s body, igniting his veins and encouraging his hardness to return. He moved his legs and let his knees fall open and the invitation was taken. The weight of his mate settled down upon him, heavy and safe and hot. Waylon could feel the lines of abs against his cock and could not stop himself from rutting against them.

            This motion didn’t seem enough to draw the larger mouth from his, however. He was still being ravished, almost obscenely so. When Eddie finally broke for air, the omega was panting, face hot, _everything hot_. His hands scrabbled for purchase on shaped biceps as they flexed when his partner moved above him, startled that he was moving away.

            “Shh,” Eddie whispered this into his ear a moment before settling a kiss behind it. He resituated himself, spreading Waylon’s thighs wider so he could move down to lather his lips and tongue and teeth along and down his neck, blowing teasingly on their bond mark, and then sucking marks along the programmer’s sharp and pale collarbones.

            Waylon kept his chin up, eyes fluttering and hands doing much the same on the skin beneath them. When Eddie lowered his administrations however, Waylon let his chin hit his chest, hard, so he could watch. He watched the way his alpha puckered his lips, dramatic and for show, eyes on his mate’s expression, a little smile every time he rose. He watched that tongue reach out and lave down his pectoral, sweeping motions until there was hot breath upon his nipple.

            The smaller man was bucking before the first lick was over, pure pleasure sparking from the nub and practically engulfing his chest. He shot a hand out to the back of Eddie’s head, digging his fingertips into the undercut to hold him close. He received a muffled grunt in reply but the licking and then _sucking_ was no less passionate. When that tongue began flicking, rapid swipes of the tip, Waylon felt his eyes roll back.

            “Oh,” he tried to whisper, “Eddie—yeah.” One of the large hands was holding up his back, keeping him in that arch. Eddie answered with his own sounds, ones of pure delight, as if he were licking at his favorite sweet. _Maybe he is._

            Waylon had always had sensitive nipples, had always liked them to be played with whenever he was fooling around with other guys, though he’d always felt too uncomfortable to divulge that information to his female partners, but now… now it was amplified. Nothing he felt before compared to his. Nothing could make him moan louder than when the attention switched to his other nipple and he bucked all over again.

            Eddie’s chest was between his legs and Waylon realized that his hips had never stopped humping. Not that he could stop now, not that he cared, not that his lover seemed to mind. He thrust between the dips of the large pectorals and babbled and drooled at the devotion to his own.

            The alpha hummed and licked his already-swollen lips when he leant back. “So sensitive.” He rested his cheek and then drifted his hands down, squeezing tight at the juncture where Waylon’s ass met his thighs.

            There was a spark of something there, the omega couldn’t deny it, but luckily it was overridden by the deep ache of overuse from their previous bouts. When he understandably hissed, Eddie’s hands loosened immediately to tentative, soothing strokes.

            “Shh,” he hushed the grimacing omega. “A few more days before I can make proper love to you. Mm, but I can please you in other ways, can’t I, darling?” The kisses resumed, peppered under his ribs and down the line of his stomach.

            They darted out to one side, the circle of lips growing larger with the skim of teeth and Waylon twitched and tried hard to suppress laughter. Eddie’s head shot up, though, and he grinned up at him.

            “Ticklish here, my love?” His fingers danced over the spot.

            “Don’t,” Waylon warned in the deepest tone he could manage. Apparently, it wasn’t that intimidating because Eddie just waggled his eyebrows and gave a squeeze.

            The engineer jolted beneath his hands, barking out a subdued, “Eddie!”

            Said man laughed and surged up to kiss him breathless again, though he hadn’t had much air to spare anyway. “I love every part of you and I won’t be able to tease you so much when you grow larger. I’m sorry.” He leant back down and pressed a serious kiss to the middle of Waylon’s stomach and then moved to press more, and only that, on the other side of his tummy, though that didn’t stop him from shooting a playful look up at his lover while doing it.

            His trail led him beyond Waylon’s pelvis, over his hipbone and down along his thigh. He slid his tongue back out when he dipped to the inner section, kissing broad and sloppily along the flesh there before sucking little parts of it into his mouth. Of course, it felt good. Waylon had discovered this particular new erogenous zone within the asylum under similar, if not more excited, lavishing.

            Now it was a slow exploration, as if Eddie were savoring the taste of his skin and the malleable feel of it beneath his tongue. At some point the programmer had begun to savor it, too, because he lifted the opposite leg without prompting for a repeated performance.

            Those huge shoulders settled between his thighs, forcing them wide. One of Eddie’s hands rested along his pelvis, thumb dipping underneath the omega’s sack and lifting it so he could lick there, too. Waylon let his body sink into the mattress below so he could put both his hands to the larger man’s head, alternating between grappling at and sweeping back his dark hair.

            There were deep inhales from the former patient, nostrils flaring wide as he scented the excitement of his small mate. Even in the dark, Waylon could see that his eyes had gone almost completely black due to the smell. There was the momentary fear, especially when Eddie continued to very gently touch the skin behind his balls and further, that the alpha would snap and take what he really wanted. He’d already done it in the asylum, and it wasn’t unheard of for it to happen even between mated pairs. But those lips just moved up, opening and closing along Waylon’s cock as they continued on, and those fingers did not probe but remained soft and questing.

            The younger man’s back bowed again when the head of his dick was immersed in that wet heat. Eddie lathered it with as much attention as any other part of his lover’s body, flicking his tongue, dipping it into the opening at the head, and then suckling softly at the deeply flushed skin. Then the mouth on him opened wide and took him straight down, again and again. Eddie was loud, humming around the length and letting the sounds of his suction drown out Waylon’s panting.

            He tried to thrust, but those strong hands caught his hips and held him down, so he wiggled and squirmed under his alpha, mouth open and head back. He realized he was making sounds, could feel them climbing from his throat and his lips forming around them to make words. He didn’t know if they were intelligible but the only time they stopped was when he needed to regain his breath.

            Waylon was caressing the sides of Eddie’s head now, and the older man seemed to preen under the attention. Every so often his eyes would open and stare up at his lover’s ruddy face as if to gauge his pleasure. With a sweep of those fingers against his skin, however, he would shut them and resume the bobbing motion of his head, the sucking of his mouth, the relaxation of his throat.

            This continued until the programmer was trembling beneath him, so hard that Waylon thought he’d shake apart upon orgasm. He curled his fingers in Eddie’s hair and gave a light tug, trying to warn him, trying to draw him off. But the bigger man didn’t relent and when those eyes opened and pinned Waylon again, he dug his fingernails in and came.

            Eddie held him deep in his throat through the first two spurts and then quickly withdrew, circling his mouth only around the head and suckling while his thick fingers jerked up and down Waylon’s length, coaxing his spend up and out.

            “Fuck,” Waylon moaned, spasming and gaping.

            His alpha released him a moment before it became too much and the technician let his arms fall away from their embrace, drained and thrumming like the rest of him after that orgasm. He took a few moments to even out his breathing and then opened eyes he hadn’t realized had shut.

            He knew immediately that Eddie wasn’t going to last long, not with the way his hand was moving over his thick dick, not with how red it was. The strong thighs bracketing it moved sleekly, and Waylon watched the way the muscles contracted as the older man stalked in closer, setting one knee into the mattress and then the other. Finally, he stopped beside Waylon’s head, offering the purpling girth with one hand while smoothing the other lovingly over the omega’s skin.

            Turning slightly, Waylon obediently wrapped his fingers around the offered dick and began jacking them up and down the length, twisting every so often before circling his tongue around the head. He returned the favors granted to him: sucking and licking, slurping precum into his mouth, and moaning around it as he did so because he knew Eddie would like the sound, that Eddie wanted him to like the taste, _and he did_.

            There was a tender touch to his hair and whispered praises for his ears and Waylon, embarrassingly, flourished under them. He relaxed his jaw and throat and took in what he could of Eddie’s cock in that position. The fingers began to pet his hair harder until they took hold, keeping the suction of his mouth on that thrumming dick for longer and longer periods of time. Large fingers overlapped his own, sped up his pace, guided him.

            Waylon groaned in anticipation and messily began to swallow when the first stream hit the back of his throat. Eddie grunted and withdrew on his second spasm, half coating his mate’s tongue and half the outside of his lips where it coalesced and dribbled down the side of his cheek. The third he aimed at Waylon’s face, marking one cheekbone and across his nose and then up the other, into his eyelashes. He smothered what was left back in his darling’s mouth, who swallowed and sucked until he was left empty.

            Not a moment passed before a gentle thumb wiped the fluid from his eye so Waylon could open it. Each swipe gathered up the spend on his face and each time it was offered to his waiting mouth to be cleaned, just as had happened in their den. Eventually a corner of the sheet was used for the remainder of his face and then to dry the wet marks on his body.

            Then Eddie was lowering on top of him, mouth finding his and searching thoroughly, passionately, _sweetly_. Then he withdrew and moved down, resting his cheek on his chest and arms around his middle, hot body chasing away any cold that could creep in after their activities.

            They remained that way for several moments, indulgent strokes and subdued breaths. With each one the smaller man took Eddie’s head lifted, and it seemed to lull them both. In the moments before sleep Waylon moved his hands to rest them at the back of the alpha’s neck and shoulders, because, he told himself, it was more comfortable.

 

 

            Waylon wondered, fragmentally in the moments between dreaming and waking, if his actions had been spurred by the tail end of his heat, the making of a new bond, or something else. He wondered at the possibility of the second. He had never been marked before this, having opted to hide what he was behind a pretty, beta wife and drugs. He’d heard and read that these bonds were all-encompassing and even overwhelming, but that the pleasure, both during sex and within each other’s company, was unrivalled. It was a thought that scared him, a thought that made him wonder if he’d come out of his heat only to have a new spell put over him. A spell he had no way of knowing would ever wear off.

            A potent spell that tempted him with the loss of control but offered blinding, spiraling pleasure and warmth and safety in return.

            A melody of chimes lilted through the morning, and pretty though it was, Waylon grimaced at it, instantly groggy and annoyed. He didn’t know if it made it better or worse that the source of his warmth lifted from him then. He decided on the latter when the chill of morning ushered in at the absence.

            He grumbled and yanked the sheets and blankets up and around himself, cocooning his body to regain the lost warmth. There was a laugh above him and then a kiss given to his head. “Go back to sleep, my Waylon.” So, he did.

            Or he thought he did, it was hard to tell when it seemed almost instantaneous that the bed was dipping under added weight that he recognized immediately as the alpha.

            Begrudgingly, he opened his eyes but did not unwrap himself. “What time is it?”

            “Barely after seven,” Eddie murmured. “They rise early. Don’t worry, Barbara is cooking breakfast and her husband is all tied up.” He stood and slipped the pajama pants he had worn back off, nude once again, and untucked the blankets so he could slip back inside them.

            His skin wasn’t as cold as expected, and that’s the only reason Waylon let him draw close. The only reason he pressed his face close.

            There was that scratchy hum again in the base of Eddie’s throat as he drew in a deep breath. “You smell good.”

            The omega snorted. “You mean I smell like you and sex.”

            He got a chuckle in response.

            Waylon’s scenting was biased towards his mate’s pheromones. He suspected that even after running a marathon in ninety-degree heat the older man would still smell good to him. But he had gotten whiffs of himself, and there was no classifying it as ‘good.’ After days of rutting and running, he wasn’t surprised.

            “We need to shower,” he said, fully awakened at the prospect of it. Maybe they even had an extra toothbrush he could use.

            “So, I smell?” Teasing.

            “I smell, so you smell.” He threw back the blankets and moved from the other man, feigning a stretch that evolved into a real one with several audible pops from his joints. Then he was upright and climbing over the alpha’s legs like he had only a few hours ago.

            This time, however, his mate caught him and lifted him effortlessly into his lap, their flaccid, naked skin meeting. He was caged there by muscular arms.

            “Eddie,” he said, warningly, entranced by the smirk before him.

            “Hm?” A broad nose nuzzled his face to the side, displaying his neck which was promptly set upon.

            “…I want to shower,” Waylon managed to get out, eyes going half-mast at the licks specifically targeted upon their mark. Those hands gripped his hips and rocked him, slid their skin together and began that swell of heat all over again. Somehow the programmer’s arms had encircled the alpha’s neck, somehow, he’d begun to rock on his own.

            Just as their breathing had begun to pick up, just as Waylon had forgotten about his own scent, just as he was about to submit again, Eddie stopped. His head turned sharply to the doorway and his hands pressed tightly to his lover’s back.

            Waylon turned his head to look and then immediately ducked back down into the taller man’s shoulder, face aflame and body shaking for an entirely new reason.

            He hadn’t needed to look long to see the shock and disgust on Barbara’s face.

            “What?” Eddie grit.

            “I-I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “The door was open—I…”

            “Shut the door and wait outside.”

            She didn’t question the order, but Waylon still did not lift his face when he heard the door click shut. It took more nuzzling for that and his color hadn’t lessened by the time he acquiesced. Eddie scrutinized him.

            “Suddenly so shy again,” he said. Then his brow furrowed. “Are you embarrassed of our love?”

            _I’m embarrassed that I’m humping my captor_ , is what he thought. “I’m embarrassed that an old woman just saw my naked ass,” is what he said.

            Eddie laughed loudly. Then he gave him a kiss that was just as loud before relenting his hold. “Let’s take our shower.”

            Waylon didn’t have to be told twice. He rolled away and hurriedly dressed himself in the clothes they had shed so quickly last night, adjusting the t-shirt to hide most of the love bites from view. Eddie only pulled up his pants and then strode to the door.

            Barbara kept her eyes averted, fingers intertwined in her mortification.

            “You can look,” she was told.

            She did so gradually, meeting the alpha’s gaze and then his mate’s. Waylon didn’t let her keep it long, dropping his to the floor and then slinking along the wall to get to the bathroom.

            “I’m sorry,” she said, and Waylon knew it was for him. “The door was open so I thought… I’ll knock from now on. I just wanted to tell you that breakfast will be ready in half an hour and ask if you needed anything before then?”

            “Waylon wants to take a shower.”

            “Oh, of course!” She passed the programmer and went to a small closet, a linen closet, from which she withdrew towels and wash cloths. Eddie took them from her and watched her lean back inside. When she came out again she was holding shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

            Waylon wanted to hug her, but opted for taking the items. “Thanks… Do you have any extra toothbrushes?”

            “They’re in the drawers in your bathroom with toothpaste,” she informed him. “Just in case we have guests.”

            “Thanks,” he said again, and then ducked into the bathroom.

            Eddie followed him in a moment later, closing the door behind them and depositing the towels between the two sinks under the mirror. Waylon drew back the shower curtain and put their washing supplies down before turning on the water to let it warm. He then returned to the sink and searched its drawers. He found _four_ toothbrushes and two bottles of toothpaste. He ripped open two of the packages, wetted the bristles of one, and coated it liberally with the paste before shoving it in his mouth.

            When he looked to his side the older man was watching him, arms crossed and bemused. Waylon shoved the second toothbrush at him and Eddie set to his own teeth. The engineer spent several minutes cleaning every nook and cranny inside his mouth, every last tooth in front and behind, and then finished by scrubbing his tongue. When he spat the foam into the sink he was relieved to find that Eddie seemed to have taken just as long. He supposed it explained how white and straight his smile was.

            He watched Eddie rinse his mouth and then stand and cup his cheek, considering. There was dark growth along his jawline and the omega briefly wondered what he’d look like if he let it grow out. But, he saw the displeased look there so he said, in hopes of buying himself some moments alone, “I’m sure they have extra razors in their master bathroom.”

            The alpha grunted in agreement. “It can wait.”

            Already used to disappointment, Waylon removed his clothes and kicked them towards the door out of the way before stepping into the tub. He adjusted the temperature and slowly eased himself under the spray, wincing at the sting of the hot water against his bites. Eddie stepped in after him and the younger man promptly dipped his head back to shut his eyes against the water. He felt the larger body reach around him, heard the sound of a lid popping, and then went when he was taken from under the spray.

            He let out a pleased breath when Eddie began working the shampoo into his hair, lathering and massaging. He did this for several long moments, working the suds down to his scalp and ensuring the deepest clean they could manage. When Waylon stepped back under the water to rinse it out, he watched the older man tend to his own hair and the way his muscles shifted under his skin as he did it.

            It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why he hadn’t wanted Waylon to return the favor, but he clamped down on this stubbornly, telling himself he’d get away with what he could while he could. He did move aside to let the other man rinse, and used the opportunity to soap up his wash cloth and start running it over his own body.

            But he was stopped in this so that Eddie could take over.

            “Why?” The omega blurted before he could stop it.

            “Why what?”

            “…I mean you don’t have to wash me. I can do it.”

            “I want to touch you,” Eddie said simply. “As much as I can. All day if you’d let me.”

            Waylon’s heart stuttered on its rhythm. Was that desire part of the new bond? It had to be, there was no other answer for it.

            “You’ll think different when I’m huge,” he said, _he hoped_.

            “You’ll never be more beautiful than when you’re full with my child.” He was on his knees now, cleaning his mate’s lower regions, deft and tender. The sexuality of his touches had stopped the minute Waylon had hidden from Barbara’s gaze, replaced with the doting caresses he had felt briefly last night. He shuddered and was thankful that Eddie did not comment on it.

            He was urged back under the spray and again watched as Eddie took care of himself. They repeated this for the conditioner and then the bigger man was stepping out, leaving Waylon to enjoy the heated water on his formerly tense shoulders for a few more moments.

            When he drew back the curtain Eddie had already dried himself and wrapped one towel around his trim waist. He held the other up and Waylon stepped into it and let himself be seen to again. At the end, when both were redressed and their hair combed back, the alpha gave his omega a kiss, one of mint and that underlying warmth and then ushered him into the hall.

            As they passed their room, Waylon’s eyes fell on the mess of blankets and sheets and he stopped. He ducked into the room quickly, stripping the sheets, frowning at the hardened parts hinting at their dried release, and bundled it all up in his arms. He shuffled by Eddie’s chuckle and made his way carefully down the stairs.

            “Oh, Waylon,” Barbara said when he’d made it to the kitchen. “Did you want me to--…”

            “No,” he almost yelled, cutting her off. He could see Ron’s head snap to attention, brows high in surprise and then they dropped in knowing. His mate chuckled again. “No, I’ve got it.”

            “I’ll show you how the washer works,” she offered.

            He didn’t reply, instead hurrying down the hall to the washing room he’d seen yesterday, noting that the glass and the broken pane of the back door had been cleaned and replaced with paper and tape respectively. He dropped to his knees by the machine and tried to shove the sheets in before the old woman could join him. Maybe she’d given him a moment, maybe not, but he’d just shut the door as she arrived.

            There was one beat of silence and then she took down the detergent from a shelf on the wall. “It goes in here,” she murmured, showing him which channel was for the soap and which was for the fabric softener. “And you press this to change the settings.” The machine chirped under her touch, an expensive piece of equipment.

            “Thanks,” he muttered, watching the cycle begin.

            She stood and watched it with him and Waylon could see her eyes dart to him and back every few seconds. When she made to reach for him he sidestepped away and she wisely dropped her hand.

            “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

            He licked his lips and tried to think of a reply.

            “…Does he hurt you?” she asked.

            “No.” _That’s the problem._


	6. Getting to hope you like me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon's starting to get acquainted with his surroundings and he's starting to think he's developing a potentially strong ally.

            There was something he had to do before he could join them for breakfast. He’d let his embarrassment from the morning’s interruption be his cover to scurry back upstairs, stammering that he needed a minute and letting his blush back the claim up. He bypassed both his room and the bathroom, however, to slink into the master bedroom.

            Barbara had said the lockbox was in their closet so he opened the door and was greeted by a fairly large walk-in. He scanned the floor quickly before looking up to the shelves that were just within his reach. There were clothes folded up there, but he could see one lump that looked a little larger than the others, and predictably, from underneath it he pulled the lockbox. It was a gray-blue color and small in his hands.

            That gave him a few places he could hide it within the house, but for now he had to put it somewhere in their room and out of Ron’s reach. Eddie’s reach would have to wait, he just hoped there wasn’t anything else in the house to tip the alpha off to the horde of guns in the backyard.

            He settled for behind the dresser in his room for now, knowing it wasn’t the best place, but hopefully the Davis’ would be smart enough not to mention it and so his mate would never know to look.

            Thinking himself satisfied he turned away, and started backwards so hard he banged back against the wall, which oddly burned with pain at the contact. In the doorway was a black cat, its wide, green eyes staring. Though still coming down from the adrenaline he managed to kneel and hold out his fist.

            “You scared me.”

            The cat continued to stare and lowered its tail. Now, the omega was definitely more of a dog person but he thought he remembered being told a lowered tail wasn’t a very good thing when it came to a cat. He couldn’t be sure, though, so he tucked his hand away and stood and, predictably, watched the little thing run off.

            Downstairs breakfast was an awkward thing, like Waylon knew it would be. There was that silence again, but that wasn’t the worst part. No, that would be the way Ron’s eyes bored into him knowingly. The sneer was never there when he turned to make direct eye contact, only ever visible in his peripheral. He meant to ignore it for his eggs and it might have worked had Eddie not become aware.

            “Is there a problem, Ron?” he asked, drawling out the older man’s name with derision.

            For his part, the look disappeared entirely, replaced with shock. “No,” he supplied after swallowing some food and schooling his features.

            “No?” the alpha parroted.

            Waylon, weary of the posturing as he was, looked to Barbara. “What’s the cat’s name?”

            Surprise lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, that’s Enzo. He came out? …He’s probably been hiding since you came and wanted to see what was going on.”

            “Is he nice?”

            “Very, once he gets to know you. He’s very affectionate.”

            That was good, he didn’t really want to get his face scratched off in the night.

            “There’s something we need to talk about,” Barbara said when the technician didn’t respond.

            Eddie’s confrontational disposition which had remained through Waylon’s questioning dropped into apparent boredom. “Is there?”

            “Yes,” she affirmed while setting her fork down. “It seems like we’re going to be living together for a while?”

            The alpha didn’t answer her nor did he interrupt.

            “We usually buy food for two weeks—for two people,” their hostess explained. “I can stretch it out to a week and a half, but I’ll have to go shopping after that. We might have to go sooner, though, because I know young men can be big eaters.”

            Waylon made eye contact with his mate and it was as if he could hear the conversation, though unspoken, so clear was the assessment behind those blue eyes.

            “We’ll talk about it when we need to go,” the programmer assuaged.

            She nodded pliantly. “There’s another thing… I was a nurse before I retired and I wanted your permission to treat your injuries.”

            Ron’s bushy brows launched up.

            “What?” Eddie asked for him.

            “I have creams that I want to apply to your face.”

            “No.”

            Barbara seemed to deflate a bit at that but then pursed her lips and turned to Waylon. “What about you? I can treat your bruises or cuts.”

            “No,” Eddie repeated, firmer.

            “Why?” Waylon couldn’t help but laugh. “You think she put poison in every bottle somehow knowing we’d be here?”

            The larger man scowled.

            “She’s got some Neosporin or something, Eddie, that’s all. You think she’s gonna hurt me and risk pissing you off?”

            “Not if she’s smart.”

            “Not if she’s smart,” the technician echoed meaningfully at the beta. “…I’d appreciate it.”

            That seemed to settle matters for the few minutes it took them to finish their meal. Eddie ate quickly with an annoyance in his brow. When he finished he stood briskly and made a point of dropping his plate and utensils into the sink rather loudly to showcase his displeasure. Waylon once again helped Barbara clear everything away while Ron was tied back up and out of mind.

            Predictably, Eddie followed behind closely as the duo went into the bathroom. Barbara stooped down to retrieve a few items from beneath the sink, including her aforementioned creams, bandages, and gloves which she put on.

            “Can you take off your shirt, Waylon?”

            He did so without acknowledging the scowl on the alpha’s face. In reality now that his heat had subsided, now that he was able to think and feel without that cloud of hormones overriding everything else, he could recognize a thrum of soreness in his entire body. It must have been worse than he thought because Barbara gave a little gasp. He looked down at himself, confused, seeing the obvious but slight bruising at his hips and the bite marks around his chest and wondering why that would elicit such a reaction. Then he realized his back was facing her.

            He turned to look in the mirror and that explained it. His entire upper back was covered in faded bruises, green and healing. For just a moment his mind blanked, flashing over all the sex and positions, and then he realized this wound had been affected beforehand. He glared over his shoulder at Eddie.

            He didn’t expect the large man to look as incensed as he was. “What happened?”

            What happened? “I was thrown into a wall,” Waylon said, accusingly.

            “By who?”

            “By _who_?”

            “It’s healing already very well on its own,” Barbara interrupted. Her hands were at Waylon’s shoulders to keep him still while she looked the patterns over.

            This left him facing the alpha. “You don’t remember?”

            Eddie tilted his head.

            Waylon couldn’t discern from his mate’s expression alone whether he remembered or not. Did anything before those long hours (days?) of heat in his den stay with him? Did it matter once he’d found his mate?

            There was soft pressure at his shoulders so he turned to face Barbara who looked over his chest and face. When she was finished she reached for the cream and began to apply it to what small cuts he had. When she moved to treat his bond mark Eddie’s hand shot out to twist her wrist away.

            She grunted and followed it.

            “Eddie, stop it!”

            “The human mouth breeds bacteria,” she explained quickly. “I just want to clean and bandage it. There’s nothing I can—can do to it t-to break your bond, I promise.”

            “Let her go,” Waylon demanded as well as he could. “Once the bond’s there it’s there, don’t you know that? If you keep licking at it before it’s scarred or reopen it I could get an infection.”

            Fortunately, Eddie listened immediately this time and drew back from them, but his eyes were still critical as she worked. Creamed and bandaged, Waylon pulled the pajama shirt back over his torso.

            “…Are there any scratches or bruises on your legs?”

            There were, but she could get at them easily when he lifted the leg of his pants up and away, but he saw the hesitance there when she had finished.

            “What?”

            She looked to Eddie warily.

            Waylon put his body between them. “What?”

            “Sometimes,” she hesitated, “sometimes during heats the pair can get… excited? Sometimes they’re too rough.”

            The technician blanked. “Uh…”

            “I’m taking care of him,” his alpha grated. “My mate is sore so we’re waiting for him to heal.”

            “That’s a good idea,” the former-nurse agreed readily, “but have you…checked? If there’s been tearing or if the inflammation is extreme we need to make sure.”

            “Sorry, wait, what? You want me to bend over?” He’d already embarrassed himself in front of her once today and that had involved seeing his ass, he wasn’t sure why she needed a close up. “You know, letting me get sick would get us out of here a lot faster.”

            “What kind of person would I be if I let you suffer?”

            _A smart one. Instead, that kind heart’s going to get you killed._ “I can look in the mirror.”

            “That’s fine… Do you know what you’re looking for?”

            At a loss, Waylon glanced over his shoulder. Apparently, Eddie had changed his mind once the implication of how serious an unchecked infection could get sunk into his head. “Let her look. Quickly.”

            There was part of him that knew she was right; if something had gone bad and he left it he could be in a lot of pain in the immediate future. On the other hand, he was really sick of feeling humiliated. The last couple of days had been more embarrassing than his entire life combined, and he remembered puking in the janitor’s closet back in college.

            And yet, still, he dropped his pants, turned and did what he had to do. Blessedly, she was fast in checking him over and assuring him that he was healing as expected.

            She averted her eyes until he was decent. “I would avoid sex for another week at least.”

            “Or longer?” Waylon asked, mind ticking.

            “The longer the better in terms of healing.”

            The omega didn’t glance up at his mate but it was as if he could feel the indignant annoyance that tightened his body as it so often did. He didn’t know why he reached out to catch his hand before he could stomp away.

            He spoke when their eyes met. “Let her put cream on your face. We can get it healed.”

            “Suddenly I’m ugly to you?”

            “What?” Waylon laughed. “Because I want to make you feel better? If you don’t let her treat it how can we ever leave this house?” And then a lower tactic in a lower voice. “What if there are people looking for us, still?”

            Eddie’s nostrils flared and he looked to Barbara. Then in one swift motion he had shucked his shirt aside and stepped before her. Obviously surprised, it took her a moment to put on new gloves and begin the entire process over again, but she obviously worked as fast as she could, either to create distance between the two of them or to keep the large man’s anger at a manageable level. Or both.

            It made it a little easier to look at him, after, when half his face was bandaged. They left their nurse to clean up so they could go into the front room, tucked away where neither of their captives would hear.

            Waylon leaned against what looked to be a mainly decorative couch. “…I’ll go with her to the store.”

            Eddie’s eyes leveled him. “It’s dangerous. What if she tries to go for help? I can handle her.”

            “By what? Killing her?” the programmer shook his head. “Besides, people are going to remember your face… Once you heal up we can get you out more.” Unless Waylon could keep finding excuses to prolong that, of course.

            The alpha shrugged his shoulder. “You’re very clever, my Waylon.”

            “It’s about the only thing I’m good at.”

            “That’s not true,” Eddie smirked. He reached out to cup the smaller man’s face. “I worry that she’ll take you away.”

            “How?” With this bond Waylon could never get away, and he didn’t know whether that was because the alpha would track him down or because he’d cave to how nice it felt to have that warmth at his cheek. He swallowed against the thought. “You think she’s going to try anything when you have her husband here?”

            His mate dropped his head, looking back and forth between the wood floor and the square of carpet protecting it from a wooden table.

            Before he could help it, Waylon had stepped forward and put his hands on the broad shoulders. “I’ll get us clothes and whatever else we need.”

            The physical contact seemed to ease his stress and those arms pulled him close. “…Alright, darling. There are things I’ll need so I will make a list.” A soft kiss touched his forehead.

            The technician tried to quirk a little smile. “Is it sewing stuff? Because there’s a good chance I’m going to get it wrong.”

            White teeth flashed back. “No, not yet. We’ll wait until we’re settled.”

 

            And over the next week and a half they did settle, or well, as much as they could settle wearing an old man’s pajamas. Waylon got to see and learn the layout of the house. He looked in each room, each bathroom, and surveyed the basement. He had been scared to go down there; he had remembered a friend of his when he was young whose father had been a hunter. Their basement walls had been lined with the heads of his more impressive kills. Besides traumatizing a seven-year-old kid, it had left the impression that that’s what all hunters did.

            Ron, apparently did not. Waylon had to wonder if Barbara had put her foot down in that regard.

            The basement was a nice space, carpeted and cozy with a big tv, a bar, a bathroom, and another guest bedroom. As a father, there was an instinct to call it a man-cave. It also made him wonder how much money this couple had stashed away. And with that kind of money? Well, it was supposed to go somewhere after they died—the question was where and how would it bite him and Eddie in the asses before they moved on. If they moved on.

            There was also the thought of somehow sneaking down here in the middle of the night to have a goddamn drink, but he wasn’t going to get his hopes up.

            Waylon got to know the outside of the house and its surrounding areas—that is, the surrounding forest. Ron and Barbara apparently loved the mountains and had wanted to retreat from everything in their old age. They’d said they were quite a way from the closest town, but that it had good stores. There were neighbors in either direction a couple of miles away, but mostly living out here meant solitude and above all else quiet.

            A good place to go unnoticed for a long time.

            Until the day Waylon had to make an appearance with Barbara while she ran her errands. Eddie had done as he’d said and made a list, with a few items that he doubted he’d find in a Walmart. He’d been instantly incensed when he saw ‘padded handcuffs’ on the list, but had been assured they were for Ron. Regular cuffs would leave bruises and this would give him a little more mobility, at least in the hands. Though, Eddie said Ron would have to ‘earn’ them, so maybe it was going to stay rope and duct tape forever depending on Eddie’s mood.

            There had been threats, plain and open and deadly, as well as rules for their trip. The most crucial of which: if they weren’t back in six hours Ron would be killed. If they came back with anyone else, especially the police? Ron would be killed. If Waylon reported that Barbara had attempted to reach out for help, Ron would be killed. Ultimately, a lot of bad ends for Ron.

            He’d said all of this menacingly as they got into the car. And then he’d been all soft smiles and gentle kisses to Waylon’s face, professing his love and telling them to be safe. He had watched them from the driveway until the car was out of sight.

            Barbara had sat in the front seat, face pale and her hands wound tightly together in her lap.

            “We’ll be back in time,” Waylon had promised her.

            She’d nodded and for forty-five minutes they were silent.

            It had occurred to the omega that he’d been able to memorize their house but he hadn’t asked anything about the couple themselves. He didn’t know anything beyond that they didn’t have kids, which made him think back to their considerable wealth, that she’d been a nurse, and that they had a cat. (He was pleased to find that she hadn’t been exaggerating: Enzo had warmed up to him after a few days.)

            “What kind of nurse were you?”

            “NP. A nurse practitioner.”

            Waylon nodded. “So, you worked in a doctor’s office. That’s pretty much a doctor, right?”

            She smiled. “Almost.”

            “…And what? He was some CEO? Construction?”

            “Something like that.”

            “Sorry. I’m just asking because of the nice house.” When she didn’t respond he changed the subject. “No kids of your own, any other relatives?”

            “I had a sister and a nephew.”

            “I just keep swinging and missing, huh?”

            “I know you don’t mean anything by it. My sister was several years ago. My nephew in a car accident about two years ago.”

            “What about Ron?”

            Barbara sighed and looked up as if thinking. “An ex-wife and two children he never sees, a son and a daughter. I think his daughter married and moved to a different country, but his son still lives in the states. He hasn’t seen them since they were very young. So, there’s nobody to come looking for us.”

            Waylon frowned. “Don’t let Eddie know any of this. And don’t lead him to think you have a bunch of family that wants to check in, he’ll feel threatened.”

            “Is there anything I can say that won’t make him mad?”

            “Not right now… you’ve got to learn to play the game.”

            She rubbed her face slowly. “That’s a really poor choice of words.”

            “Then you have to know how to play him. A little easier for me considering the teeth marks on my neck, but just try to do things he expects—unfortunately, for a woman that means food and cleaning. He’s a pretty big asshole.”

            “A dangerous one,” she agreed.

            “You’ve got to play a role in his messed-up fantasy. What he wants is a family, a perfect happy family right out of a fifties’ sitcom or something.”

            She turned to look at him. “Did he kidnap you?”

            “Mhm.” _Obviously._

            “Where did he catch you?”

            He answered with a smile and a look.

            “Has he killed before?”

            “What do you think?”

            The beta didn’t need to vocalize her response. “What’s your plan, Waylon?”

            Well, that was a loaded question. He had several and most of them would probably end up getting his neck snapped. The safer one had him in captivity for the rest of his life. The hopeful, stupidly hopeful one had him getting away, bond mark be damned. But that all depended on one thing.

            “Depends on whether he knocked me up or not.”

            “And if he didn’t?”

            “He’ll probably get angry and kill me.”

            “I don’t think he will. He loves you.”

            Waylon laughed. “He’s insane. He _thinks_ he loves me.”

            “I think it’s real enough to him.”

            He had to try to remember nurses and doctors who worked in offices would have spent years talking to their patients about the most personal of things. In a way, they could probably be a very basic form of therapy.

            “It doesn’t matter. He gets mad, worse than you’ve seen, and once he realizes he’ll have to wait for another heat? Who knows what happens then.” And if Waylon died, the older couple would, too.

            “Okay,” she acquiesced. “And if you are pregnant?”

            “Sad thing is that’s the best-case scenario,” he told her numbly. “If I am I’ll have to go in to get a c-section. Eddie won’t want to miss the birth of his kid. I have it, I get the cops to arrest him, and me and my kid go free with no bond-breaking to endanger us. And you and Ron get to wave goodbye as we go to the hospital.”

            She searched his profile as they entered the town. “And then what?”

            “And then I take my baby back to my family and we go into hiding.”

            “You have a family?”

            This time Waylon was the one to give the curt smile that ended the conversation.

 

 

            The town had a Walmart and several other fresher produce stores that Barbara insisted on going into. He supposed it made sense that she’d know which shop had fruit and vegetables that would last the longest considering how long the couple went between shopping trips. The big chain store seemed to be the one in which she got boxed foods and toiletries. Here Waylon stocked up on clothing, enough to get them by. Eddie had written down his size and preferences but there was only so much a Walmart could provide and, admittedly, the omega was a little glad of it. Still, there were enough dress pants to satisfy the alpha, as well as workout clothes, boxers, socks, and shoes that they both desperately needed.

            By the time they were finished the back of the car was full, all save for one item. He’d had to pull off at some sleazy roadside sex shop for them, as he figured he would. He’d told Barbara to wait in the car ( _and please don’t be stupid_ ) with the keys and her credit card safely in his pocket. Once he stepped inside, however, he felt like he’d need to shower three times to get clean.

            It smelled, well, musty, and it wasn’t as well-lit as he would’ve liked but on the positive side that just urged him to move faster. He piled three bottles of lube into the basket he had grabbed and searched around until he found the handcuffs. Most were cheap, fuzzy, tacky things that he knew wouldn’t hold up. One set, however, was clearly meant to hold and those were the ones he took.

            Instinctively, he kept his head down when speaking to the cashier who didn’t give it a second thought. Most likely ninety percent of his clientele refused to make eye contact when buying all their toys. He didn’t question the name on the card, just bagged the items, asked for a signature, and let Waylon on his way.

            They were an hour early when they got back to the house and yet, still, upon pulling up to the garage they were greeted by Eddie and Ron, seated on the patio. Ron was tied and clearly unhappy, but the alpha’s face brightened around his grin as he stood to greet them. He clicked the safety onto the handgun he’d been brandishing and stuffed it in his pocket as Waylon turned off the engine.

            It was a strange juxtaposition, too, to feel the softness of his mouth in tandem with the cold metal jutting into his side when they pressed together. Though, he supposed as they ferried their purchases inside, it wasn’t all that far off from what he’d come to expect from his mate.

            And now, for the next couple of weeks until Waylon knew for sure what cards he held, what his body did or didn’t hold, it was Barbara and Ron’s turn to learn, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things tend to speed a little in the parts to come, we've got a lot of ground to cover, so to speak. Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. I hope it is worth the wait and worthy of your time now. Thank you so much for reading.


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